Nefarious
by lunawritings
Summary: During Isabelle's sixth year she is assigned a Potions partner who becomes one small difference in a greater chain of events • sirius black slow-burn & will change to M •
1. The Lion's Jaw

_IN MY HANDS_

Author's Note: My first chapter! Also just to clarify, Lily and James becoming headboy and headgirl happens in the seventh year this time not the sixth because I wanted them to be slightly older so that's slightly different, and Remus is not a prefect in the sixth year either. Also Sirius is still living in Grimmauld Place for now and I have introduced some new characters and changed their personalities a little. Alice and Frank are the same age as the marauders not the suspected two years older. Will be a slow-burn. AND I _MEAN_ SLOW-BURN.

 _Disclaimer: all place, characters and ideas belong to J.K Rowling. I own nothing except for Isabelle._

* * *

 _Chapter One: The Lion's Jaw_

* * *

 _14th May, 1968._

 _OUR FIRST MUGGLE-BORN MINISTER MAY BE OUR GREATEST._

 _The Daily Prophet's front page on Sunday, the 14th of May, 1968 was the beginning of a chain of events that led to the murder of the first muggle-born Minister of Magic._

 _Ironic, isn't it?_

 _For at 12:34am on the night of that comdemned article, a man arrived outside the door of a ragedy London apartment. He was dressed in all black; a thick cloak and hood, a sharp suit underneath. With skin pale white, it looked as if he'd never seen the sunlight. And the two dark eyes above a hooked nose and pair of thin lips created a nightmare. Think of it like this: when you were a child and you thought you saw that creature in the corner of your room, it's hatred and anger was enough to make you feel a fear unbestowed to anything you've felt before._

 _Because that was him, that man. His resentment and wickedness took good things, it swallowed them up and ripped them apart._

 _The hallway this man was in, was lined with a dozen more rooms, where their tenants were sound asleep. He did not care for the muggles in their beds, his stare was fixated on the brown door in front of him. It was chipped and the varnish was peeling away, it's owner clearly could not afford any sort of luxury._

 _And it was a pity._

 _The owner was a writer. He was still awake as well, but scribbling vigorously in the candlelight so he could finish his next article. When the doorbell rang, he snapped out of a daze and had to blink himself awake enough to stand._

 _The boy was in tartan pyjamas, his hair dischevelled and stinking of burning candle. As he opened the door, he remembered that he must write to his mother again in the morning; telling her the article was an outstanding success and that he was perfectly safe away from home despite her ridiculous worrying. She would be so proud to finally hear back from him, he was always forgetting, you see._

 _What he didn't expect was Tom Riddle. He stood a meter away, his head tilted, analysing him for a second._

 _Kyle Narbury didn't have time to breathe or run for his wand in this time. Did time even exist during this moment anymore?_

 _The only thought that ran through his mind was that he hadn't been enough. Then the flash of green burnt it from him and he was thrown backwards into his desk, splattering ink everywhere and knocking over a candle that set fire to his last thought; that he must sign off with 'all my love' so that his mother would know he was doing just fine._

* * *

 _September 1st, 1976._

 _The Hogwarts Express._

"The hanging man," Isabelle Williams said triumphantly as she held her tarot card up.

Marlene McKinnon swiped it from her and glared at it like she'd suspected her friend had been cheating all along. She stared at it hard, curling her fingers around it slightly. With a defeated sigh, she threw her pile of cards at Isabelle and began her deck all over again. It was the fourth time she'd lost, despite it being her idea to play. To Marlene, Tarot snap was the greatest game invented but it wasn't popular for the reason that it was devilishly insensitive to Divination.

"I don't understand how you keep winning," Marlene groaned, looking crest-fallen at the new card she'd picked up. "These belong to me. Where's my loyalty?"

"Probably dancing with death," Lily sighed and pointed to the cards the two girls had already gotten through, sure enough the last one to be put down was death. "You know what Professor Oakton would say about this. He's very superstitious."

Isabelle scoffed, their Divination teacher was as old as Hogwarts itself. He could barely walk anymore due an infected kneazle bite that he swore gave him a fifth all-seeing eye, so most lessons were just waiting for him to reach your table to see how your ovomancy was going.

It had only been the three of them in the train carriage. Amelia Johnson, their fourth group member, was nowhere to be found, despite Isabelle begging the train driver to wait a couple more minutes. The girls assumed she'd slept in and still had each other for the seven hour journey. Isabelle watched, amused, as Lily took a tarot card.

"One of Wands?" She asked aloud. "Is it like a prophecy?"

Isabelle nodded. "Academically, yes. For thousands of years, Seers have used the cards to tell someone their future but muggles pretend they know how they work to get non-magic money — I saw it once with Mum and Dad."

"Blah. Blah, blah," McKinnon groaned. Muggles had always bored her. "I'll explain how you play the good version of tarot cards."

And so, Isabelle fell back into her seat, thankful for a break. She'd been playing for four hours already. Watching Marlene dramatically fold out the Divination snap game was better than playing it because the Gryffindor was dramatically animated in how she explained things. Twice, she nearly flung all the cards over the floor trying to shuffle them to show their friend. Lily twirled one the weaker cards between her fingers, listening intently.

"Right, so here the Sun is stronger than the Moon..." Marlene demonstrated, plucking it from her suddenly. Lily frowned, a confused grimace on her face which usually would've made Isabelle laugh but her mouth was clamped shut when Marlene focused on her again. She wiggled a thick dark-blonde eyebrow at her, indicating that they were to play again.

"Your turn," Marlene giggled. "I've got a good one."

Isabelle picked up a card from the pile and flicked it round with a bored face. Lily burst out laughing at Marlene, understanding the King of Pentacles was the strongest tarot card in the pack. McKinnon threw herself against the chair with a frustrated scream: "This is bullying. I'm writing a letter to Professor Dumbledore!"

Laughing, Isabelle put all of her cards back. "I'd do best out of ten but clearly, I'm already the best."

"Yeah? Well, at least my card doesn't symbolise a vicious old man."

"Do I look like an old man? Like Oakton?" Isabelle rolled her eyes. She enjoyed the feeling of winning against Marlene, even in a stupid card game but her friend didn't feel the same. Taking out her wand, she jabbed it at her.

"I could turn you into Oakton," Marlene hissed. Isabelle widened her eyes for a moment but her friend's feirce face was too much and she burst out laughing next to Lily. Balling up her cloak, Marlene threw it at her.

"Me? You've got the hair for it. If you dare, I'll set Eris on you," Isabelle giggled, catching the cape then throwing it back – Lily snorted and flicked one of the cards and Marlene's outstretched wand hand. They created a battle of flying paper and enchanted areodynamics. Soon, the whole compartment became a wreckage of flying tarot cards and Gryffindor robes, the three girls unable to breathe through their laughter when the trolley lady came around.

* * *

"So, why do you think we were searched after the carriages?" Marlene asked Isabelle and Lily as they sat at the Gryffindor table. They had a few minutes until the sorting, a time filled with multiple conversations about the Ministry Officials stood at the entrance to Hogwarts.

They had been in thick, black cloaks that dragged along the floor. Isabelle could barely see their faces underneath the rimmed hat they wore, she'd tried to get a good look when they waved a spell across her.

"They didn't have any faces," Alice Longbottom whispered erratically. "I tried to catch their eye but there was nothing there!"

"Al, their faces were covered."

Millicent Gygars took a large space opposite Isabelle, her hands clasped together as if she were about to conduct an interview. "I know what they are," she said wistfully. The three girls waited in anticipation. "Unspeakables."

"Unspeakables?" Isabelle repeated. "Aren't they top secret Ministry agents? Why would-"

Marlene rolled her eyes. "Unspeakables don't speak. It's understandable, yeah, but all they did was wave their wands over us. They could've just been from the Ministry." Millicent's eyes glazed over, she smiled.

"Why did they look like such unhappy rabbits, then?"

Isabelle laughed, thinking she was joking but quickly realised the girl wasn't. Coughing, she said slowly: "Millicent, I think you've missed the point. I think they were just checking we didn't bring anything dangerous."

"But why would we bring anything dangerous?" Marlene interrupted Millicent, her eyes big. "Surely those attacks over the summer don't have anything to do with anyone here."

The only people Isabelle could think would do anything to harm the school were the Slytherins. Especially those in her year. They were a group of five, led by Evan Rosier and Avery who were made it their educational task to torment every student underneath Hogwarts' roof. They were five of the nastiest purebloods she'd ever met, never in trouble but always seemed to be near it when something happened. Wilkes liked to tell her that mudbloods deserved everything they got, until he was moved down a year for being too thick and she only ever saw him when they passed each other in the corridor.

Rabastan was the worst. Best friends with Evan and Severus, he patrolled the corridor frequently at night for any first years out of bed. You usually found them dangling from the astronomy tower or shivering on the edge of the Dark Forest.

They never said who did it to them, and sometimes it felt as if it were only the students who paid attention to the dark truth of Slytherins. Rodolphus was particularly good at making sure of that.

Isabelle didn't realise she had turned around to look at their table and she blinked back to the present. Turning back to her friends, she said: "Not every wizard is good. I think we all know that by now." Lily was too looking at their group.

"Do you think that of them could really hurt someone, though?" She asked. "I mean really hurt someone."

None of them could answer her as Professor Dumbledore came ushering the last few pupils into the hall, flicking his wand to close the doors and making his way to the podium. The girls stopped talking, a polite hush falling upon Hogwarts as they listened to his welcome. For a few moments, he spoke about the lack of changes in staff and how the school should welcome new minds. The topic of Ministry Officials checking everyones luggage wasn't bought up at all, in fact, it was mentioned that he hoped everyone arrived safetly and adequately onto the grounds.

Dumbledore then lifted a hand, allowing the Great Hall doors to open and the first years in.

Isabelle's palm was supporting her head as she watched the first years scurry up the centre of the hall. The little things struggled to keep up with Professor McGonagall, a couple stumbling over their new cloaks and each other. From what Isabelle could remember, it was one of the most traumatic moments of her life. Sweating her way through a crowded hall with no knowledge of an enchanted ceiling or floating candles or a _talking_ hat. It made everything worse that she believed everyone was watching her. The irony of it was that now, she didn't care about the first years and it was all, a rather boring affair.

Yawning, she struggled to refocus on the professors up front, who didn't appear even the slightest bit drowsy. The train back was full of gossip and exploding snap, there was no time for sleep then.

McGonagall stopped at the top of the hall, just in front and to left of Dumbledore. As always, she was wearing emerald green for the start of term; a rich colour adorned with a velvet hat atop her head. The Sorting Hat was already there, as dusty as ever and probably just as grumpy. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth - and the hat began to sing:

 _"One thousand years ago is where this story starts,  
_ _There were four sorcerers with strong and kind hearts,  
_ _Gryffindor from the lion's jaw,  
_ _Fair Ravenclaw from glen,  
_ _Sweet Hufflepuff from Valley Broad,  
_ _Shred Slytherin from Slen,  
_ _For each had a dream to teach all they knew  
_ _Witches and wizards came far and it grew!  
_ _A castle stood tall on the shore of a lake,  
_ _a thousand years later the magic remains!  
_ _But all that remains is not for our peace,  
_ _It is fear and vengence,  
_ _We must fight to be free of this!  
_ _I realise I am old,  
_ _I've sat here for a thousand years,  
_ _That is my job, I give you more than these seers!  
_ _Perhaps too much,  
_ _Oh, red, yellow and blue  
_ _We shall see to be mourning you all too soon!  
_ _And I know you are afraid, afraid of what you'll hear?  
_ _Afraid I'll speak the name you fear?  
_ _Not Slytherin! Not Gryffindor!  
_ _Not Hufflepuff! Not Ravenclaw!  
_ _Don't worry, child, I know my job,  
_ _You'll learn to laugh, if first you sob!"_

The sorting hat created a thick mist of confusion in the Great Hall. When his grizzly voice ceased, nobody was sure how to react, giving a slow applause and half-hearted cheer. Isabelle looked around at her table, absurdly worried she'd missed a great joke in his song. Last year was a joyous recital of her first year poem, where he sang about the beauty of Gryffindor (among the other three). The portentous theme this year was quite different; from her seat, even the teachers looked uncomfortable.

Professor Dumbledore coughed, clapping his hands together. "Right," he said. "Such marveling lyrics. Let the sorting begin! Professor McGonagall, if you will."

The transfiguration teacher went forward hastily, rustling a thick piece of parchment in front of the first years. Isabelle hoped the Gryffindors this year were more exciting, the number of students who wanted to attend Hogwarts was always growing. She thought it was because The Daily Prophet wrote an article every year about Dumbledore's greatness. She heard that the Minister fancied him and that's why he was always praised so.

"What was all of that about then?" Marlene McKinnon hissed across at her suddenly. _"'If first you sob?'_ What's that supposed to mean?

Lily was frowning. "Mmm, and that talk about mourning blue, yellow and red? Slightly morbid, what if he's talking about..." Millicent Gygars, sat beside Marlene, hummed a whispy tune and interrupted:

"I don't think he's talking about that at all. We're all dying aren't we. All the husbands and all the wives. Every minute..." Lily shot Millicent a dirty look.

It wasn't something the girls had fully gotten used to: Millicent's wistful thinking and words. Ever since they'd met her, she always said such odd things and it took Isabelle four years to

Ever since they'd met her, she always said such odd things and it took Isabelle four years to realise that she was always quoting Marilyn Monroe. But the girl couldn't be blamed, she was so childlike that it was easy to forget she was sixteen.

Millicent had long whispy brown hair, that reached her lower back in thin curls. She always appeared rather vacant to the world and latched onto certain objects, things, and people.

 _"Davey Gudgeon!"_ McGonagall shouted. Isabelle looked up in surprise that they were already on the letter. The boy was sorted into Ravenclaw, a ground applause erupting from their table behind her. For a couple of minutes, the sixth year Gryffindor watched half-a-dozen first years shake their way to the platform and suffer having that musty old thing on top of their heads. Four went into Gryffindor, three more into Ravenclaw and then one into Slytherin; a snotty looking boy with thin black hair named Otto. When he joined his table, Ludo Bagman slapped him on the back with a proud smile.

"Isabelle _? Isabelle!_ Did that singing make you deaf?" She looked at Marlene wildly then returned a bored, mellow feeling. Her friend's screeching wasn't something she missed over summer, but that was just McKinnon for you. "Sorry, Mar," Isabelle responded. "I was just seeing who would join us."

"Didn't you hear what Potter just said?" Marlene whispered. Isabelle looked at James who was in deep conversation with another Gryffindor, obviously pre-occupied with another topic. Marlene whacked her hand.

"What was that for?" Isabelle hissed, holding it with a frown. "Is something Potter said really that important?"

"Yes! Well, aside from the routine compliment he gives to Lily. But he just said the hat hears things in Dumbledore's Office, about the Ministry – _bad things_ , Belle."

"Potter doesn't know a thing, Marlene." Lily cast James a hostile glare, and then turned to her other friend fiercely. "Don't believe a word he says Isabelle, it's all a lie for attention. He just can't tell the difference between the good and bad kind."

Beside Marlene was Alice, a spririted girl with a pixie hair cut that made her eyes appear massive. She was friends with everyone and was always moving around the Gryffindor table. She had been listening half-heartedly for a while, but giggled: "I think he only cares about your kind."

Lily rolled her eyes. They all knew James' infatuation with her had reached an obsession over the last five years, by now it was a just something the girls used to annoy Lily but it was a matter of time before she completely lost it with him and screeched that she thought he was the worst boy she'd ever met.

Marlene nearly threw herself across the table. "He told you that you look _beautiful_ , Lily. The boy's become a love-struck idiot over the course of summer."

"That being said he wasn't one before," Isabelle teased, glancing at him. Lily put her head on the table, thick red hair mapping out across Belle's space. "Stop malting all over me. You're like a dog."

"Merlin," Lily groaned. "Enough."

Dumbledore interrupted their giggling at that moment, clapping his hands together so the hall fell silent. Each table had become full, at first with students, but then with glorious food. A bounty of roast dinners, steaming from the kitchens behind the portrait of the pear appeared down the tables. Ever since third year, Isabelle always imagined the house-elves working tirelessly behind the scenes. Lily and herself and found the entrance, accidentally heading back late from the library. Three years later, it felt like a hundred moons had past since that time.

"Merlin!" Amelia Johnson gushed aprubtly from behind Isabelle. Her cheeks were bright red from running, brown hair sticking to her face. Isabelle stared at her incredulously, wondering where on Earth her friend had been this whole time.

Johnson laughed, "I was at an interview for the Holyhead Harpies. Student Quidditch players have a chance to be on the team!" Isabelle gasped.

"That's amazing, Amelia! How did it go? Did you meet Garrett Harrods? Marlene fancies him." She said, lowering her goblet of orange juice. Marlene screeched that she wasn't infactuated with the Harpies beater, but they knew it was a lie.

Johnson snorted as she tucked into the leftovers of the feast, heaping a fistful of peas next to some crisp chicken and carrot. "I didn't meet Garrett but I did see him walking past the interview room. He's shorter than I thought." Marlene swallowed her parsnip loudly.

"How short? Five foot five? That's not bad, you know."

"You're six foot, Marlene."

She looked at Amelia and back to her drink. Her friend was doing so well, even at sixteen, she was on her way to becoming a professional Quidditch player and it made Isabelle envious. It made her feel as if time was running out for her, to start her future career and not get left behind like the muggle-born she was.

Isabelle was glad desert came around quicker than she expected. Starving, her hands were around the bowl of hot chocolate pudding before anyone else in Gryffindor, it was her favourite part of dinner. The warmth made her feel as if she'd never left Hogwarts - it was a home from home.

"Now, as we all finish off our delicious start-of-term deserts," The headmaster took his position on the podium again, a hush fell upon the hall immediately. After clapping his hands together, he loudly said: "a small reminder has been requested by our caretaker, Argus Filch. This year can we please have no more pop-up corridor swamps, flying-book brigades and this is highly requested, in fact in rather large capitals: do not block the toilets on the second floor. Again."

Professor Dumbledore looked down at the sheet of paper through his tiny spectacals with a confused frown. Flurried whispers erupted throughout the halls. Isabelle could imagine Filch's writing was an scribbly mess, as he angrily scrawled on parchment in his office, glancing up at the various torture devices he was no longer allowed to use.

She watched Dumbledore turn the paper over, confused by what was written but then he tucked it away and clapped again. "Right," he finalised. "Another thing: no more charming Soloman. Now off to bed, _pip pip!"_

James Potter and Sirius Black had been sat in their seats with their hands over their mouths ever since the professor had started talking. The list of pranks had all been them and remembering how they charmed the giant squid to sing last year made them lose their controlled silence. Bursting into laughter, they began slapping their hands on the table.

Isabelle looked at them, bored. "Someone's excited to go to bed."

"Someone's excited by their stupidity," Lily huffed, shoving her robe back on.

The group of five, Alice included, set off from their table. Millicent had run off to try and talk to Tony Abbotts, a Hufflepuff seeker who helped her with Transfiguration. The prefects from the year above were at the back of the hall by the bustling teacher's table, around them were dozens of tiny black-hatted first years.

The rest of the students had formed a cramped group by the door, all trying to get out and to bed. The first feast always took the longest, and with that abscure sorting song, it made the three hours feel like a life time.

Isabelle couldn't wait to curl up in her bed with the works of Frances Burney and Eris asleep at her side. That was her favourite place to be, with company but in solitude.

Suddenly, a booming voice hit her right ear and she looked back at the group who'd joined the closed space around them.

"...and when we hexed Aubrey last year?" Sirius snorted. "Out of everything we'd done, I expected Pomfrey to put a note in about how it took a week to shrink his head back."

"Pomfrey's loves us, I think the only one who laughed more than Peter was her."

Peter Pettigrew was shoved forward by the rest of the students, he ended up next to Isabelle and smiled awkwardly at her. It was then that she felt bad for nearly rolling her eyes. Peter was always nicer than the rest of the bunch; skinnier and more timid. He had limp hair that hung half-way down his forehead. Out of the four of them, it was Peter, as well as Remus which Isabelle enjoyed being with.

Sometimes Remus would sit in the library, on the opposite side of the table because it was closest to the radiator - but at first, she didn't like him because he would laugh at Potter and Black pranks but seeing him every couple weeks, reading the same book, looking slightly dishevelled made her enjoy his company.

"Evans, fancy us being this close to one another." James said. He pushed a hand through his thick hair, looking at Lily with big eyes hidden behind glasses. "Call me true love, beloved or-"

"A prat," Lily hissed as we made our way out the hall. Potter scoffed, placing a hand to his chest.

"First day of term and you're already being so cruel, Lils."

"I told you at the table to push off!"

Sirius stumbled in front of the group, a large smile on his face. "Woah. Marlene, did you do something to your hair?" She touched it, her eyes widening. "I didn't know they had a hairdresser for a trolls," he laughed. "Oh, wait that's Millicent."

He was always _such_ a joker, _so_ funny, all of the time making a joke about anything. Isabelle narrowed her eyes at him, a disgusted tone overcoming her voice. "Don't you dare say anything about Millicent. She's-"

"Half-troll." Sirius interrupted, eyes landing on her. "Almost didn't see you there, Williams. You just blend in _so_ easily."

"Suck a dick, Black," Amelia suddenly spat, grabbing ahold of Isabelle roughly and yanking the other girls ahead so they could make a bee-line for their beds. Sirius laughed at them, "I'd just get you to do that, Johnson. 'Heard you got with Henry Cordals over the summer. Care to share?"

Isabelle rounded on him, "care to do us a favour?"

James snorted. "He'd do anything for a girl."

"Oh, good. Go and choke."

Sirius let out a howl of laughter, throwing his head back so the mop of curly waves nearly bashed into a poor second year behind him. Remus was trying to hide his grin, he was always careful to not get on anyone's bad side whereas Peter didn't try and stifle his giggling next to Isabelle.

It took several moments for the boys to stop attempting to poke fun at them, James deciding to target Lily once again.

"Will you do me a favour and leave me alone, you prat!" Lily screeched.

Sirius let out a whistle. It hit Isabelle's ears. With a scowl, she watched him push through Amelia and Alice then sprint off up the stone steps with the rest laughing behind him. "God, I hate him. _Them_. Ugh!" Lily cried.

Looking at Evans, Isabelle offered a grimace. Their entire education had been victim to listening to Sirius and James being so vulgarly obnoxious and cruel to nearly every student they could get their hands on. She couldn't wait for the day she no longer heard Black's voice laughing or shouting down her ear.

The group of four were usually together, if not then it was James and Sirius. They caused the most trouble, constantly exasperating the boundaries of the school rules and bullying everyone just to get a laugh out of anyone near by.

There was a bustle of noise as the rest of the faculty moved to get to the stairs, a couple of the ghouls and ghosts drifted overhead; their feet swiping through the hair of students so they shivered. There was a _pop_ and a little man with wicked dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, holding an abundance of what appeared to be slime balls.

Isabelle didn't take a moment to hesitate when she realised it was Peeves the Poltergeist hovering the entrance hall door. She shoved her way through the crowd with Lily directly behind her in an effort to escape what ever merciless prank the creature had planned.

"Oooooooh!" he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle firsties! What fun!"

"Oh, Merlin. If he comes near my new hair with all that... I don't know what it is, but if he comes near me, I'll kill that foul thing!"

Isabelle would've usually reminded Marlene that Peeves wasn't actually alive or dead, he was just a corporeal thing that came with the castle. She used to admit to herself that if Peeves had once been a boy who was brutually murdered in the building then she would have felt quite sorry for him. However, Peeves hadn't spawned from the spirit of someone who'd died, he was a pesky little beast with no respect for anyone.

In her second and fourth year, he'd dumped a jug of hot sewage water on her head whilst she was minding her business in the library. It splattered all over her books and left her mortified.

As they reached the stairs, a rough hand grabbed Isabelle's arm. She looked up in surprise which was soon soothed when she realised it was only Ali.

The tall Hufflepuff had a smile which flashed pearly white teeth. She looked up at his messy red hair and pushed her cheek against his chest. Ali always smelt of lemongrass and butter. It was the smell of _Escargots de Bourgogne_ , a traditional french dish which his parents were obsessed with cooking and sending to him in the post.

"Hello, gorgeous," he said.

Isabelle smiled at his voice, the same way she had for the last two years.

"I tried to look for you on the train," she said. "But I couldn't find you anywhere."

Alistair laughed lightly and said: "No, well, I was with the Hufflepuffs."

Smiling warmly, she asked about his summer, having not seen him once and only receiving a handful of letters. He told her about his holiday to Morocco and she listened intently.

They reached the top of the stairs. "I have to go. I'll catch you later," he kissed her cheek and she gave him a sad smile.

"Tomorrow. I'll see you tomorrow."

Ali ruffled a hand through his hair and sorted out his Hufflepuff robes. With a grin, he said, "sure you will."

* * *

 _ **References Made in the Chapter:**_

\- Laurence Binyon's _For The Fallen_ was an inspiration for the sorting hat's song, as well as the first song from _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_.

\- _The Lion's Jaw -_ interpreted from an Aesop Fable called the _Dog and the Fox_ which is about the two creatures discovering the body of the lion and then rip it apart (slightly gruesome I am sorry) but the moral is quite symbollic.

\- Millicent Gygars - a half-troll student, her last name is inspired by the Scandinavian myth of a Jötnar (an ugly troll who lived in the mountains and turned to stone in the sunlight). A female Jötnar is known as a Gygjar.

\- Frances Burney's novel _Evelina_ is what Isabelle cannot wait to read; an amazing piece of literature I love and recommend, tell me what you think of it if you've read it as well!

\- The Giant Squid's name _'Solomon'_ is Hebrew for evoking wisdom and peace, quite fitting for an old creature in the grounds of Hogwarts.

\- When Alistair says _"Hello, gorgeous,"_ I wrote it with Tom and Jas from Angus Thongs and Perfect Snogging! (the scene where Tom says the same thing lol)

\- _Aysgarth Falls_ is a triple flight waterfall in the Yorkshire Dales in England. (Extremely beautiful as I've seen them before!)

 _Please review and let me know what you think! Please, please!_

 **Comment:**

\- Hello everyone! Thank you for making it through chapter one, unless you got to the bottom and thought that it was rubbish, then I'm sorry! But I repeat, this is a slow-burn and there are minor details that are different (I'll always pick them out before a chapter) CARRY ON! x


	2. Artificial Nocturn

_Disclaimer: all place, characters and ideas belong to J.K Rowling. I own nothing except for Isabelle._

* * *

 _Chapter Two: Artificial Nocturn_

* * *

Minerva McGonagall was a passionately fearsome Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She always wore a velvet gown in a rich, dark colour; today it was clair de lune grey, with long sleeves that trailed far past her hands. Her collar was tight around her neck, with no hair astray from the tight bun she had to pull back her thin face. Her stern voice reached far, scaring the tiny Ministry official who sat quivering in a chair beside Professor Dumbledore.

The Minister for Magic had sent an owl at six in the morning. He called for a meeting regarding the Daily Prophet which had been printed.

McGonagall was left distraught.

"It is an absolute outrage," she exclaimed, her hands shaking as she clutched the fresh printed Daily Prophet.

As a Ministry Official, it was Charles Picado's job to relay letters from the Minister. He was also the executive from the Muggle Protection Liaison Office. In this instance, all the training he'd been through hadn't prepared him for the Transfiguration's temper.

Picado sweated through his striped suit and raised a small finger. "P-Professor," Picado stuttered. She glared at him, raising a perfectly arched eyebrow as if she already knew his words meant absolutely nothing. His mustache shook. "I really did just come to assure that the rumours are not true-"

"For months," she interrupted, "attacks have been recorded and cast aside and finally something fatal occurs _and_ it is only then that the Ministry pays attention and comes running to tell me there is nothing to worry about? Do I live on a different planet, Mr Picado? Lives have been lost and you are telling me the Minister for Magic cannot offer anything more... more definitive?"

Picado went beetroot red, his mouth opening and close like a fish. "I-I really am unsure of the Minister's motives at this moment. I just came to inform you that the printed report missed out some minor details."

"Minor details?!" McGonagall nearly screeched. She met Dumbledore's eye and tried to calm herself down. "Skeeter lied about the number of bodies, she's given false claims and has targeted the school. What if the attack wasn't _meant_ to highlight this us, and now Skeeter has? Is the Ministry monitoring anything, at all? Or am I to assume the only one offering any sort of advice is Rita Skeeter?"

"Minerva," Dumbledore looked at her over his half-moon spectacles. "Please, Mr Picado was just delivering a message."

"Albus," responded the middle-aged witch in the same testy tone. She walked to his desk in an elegant glided movement. "The entire village is gone and we have been left with... left with... rumours! It's disgraceful!"

The Ministry Official swallowed, his department was in muggle protection; used to dealing with petrifying creatures and criminals, confrontations with upset public was what really frightened him.

"My Lady," he quivered, "if it is the well-being of your students you are worried about, I-I can assure you that your students are safe."

"Safe? _Safe_?" She cried. "Did your department promise that to those dead muggles. Or, can I also be assured that you at least tried? Hmm, Mr Picado?"

McGonagall walked away from him then, her hand holding her forehead. Her lungs exerted shaking breaths, her chest far too tight. She was aware of the thousands of children under her care, and how much Hogwarts pushed it's boundaries to keep them safe. All those names she read out the evening before came flooding back, for Minerva could remember every single one.

"They were children there," she said, turning around with the swish of her cloak. "And if these... these _monsters_ do not care for the lives of children then we can only assume that this village wasn't the end but the start of something far worse."

Picado tried to smile. "There is nothing worse out there, I promise you. The Ministry is aware that the targeted population was the muggle-born family who were on site. Your pupils are perfectly-"

McGonagall rounded on the stout man, her nose flaring as she screeched, "half of our students are half-blood and muggle-born!"

"Minerva," Dumbledore said calmly, rising from his chair. "I must ask you to lower your voice, our pupils still have not started their day, yet. We must control the rumours of this event, for they shall read the article but not have confirmation of it's truth."

"Oh, Albus. Don't they deserve to know what has happened? If the time has finally come then they won't be _children_ anymore," McGonagall sighed, pressing a hand to her warm chest. "Their best interest _is_ the truth-"

"They're best interest is safety, Professor. Safety we can provide," Dumbledore finalized. Turning to the timid Ministry executive, he said: "Inform Kingsley Shacklebolt in the Department of Magical Law and Protection that the school's boundaries are to be re-examined in January and if needs be then perhaps officials need to be stationed around the grounds when there's an indication-"

 _"When_ Albus-?" McGonagall cried.

 _"When_ there's an indication these attacks are targeting the school. Can you do that for me, Mr Picado?"

Charles Picado glanced between the two Professors, nodding curtly. He grabbed hold of the documents he'd laid out on Dumbledore's desk and crumpled them into his leather briefcase. With a loud _pop_ , he disappeared from his chair.

Minerva stared at his vacant seat with forlorn expression, her thin lips parted as if the words died on her tongue. Looking at Albus for some reassurance, he was focusing on retaking his seat at his desk and she found none.

He picked up a gold-feathered quill and dipped it into an open inkpot, scribbling on a piece of parchment. The scratching was like music in the headache-worthy silence.

"Minerva," Dumbledore then said softly. "Breakfast is soon to begin. Would you like to join the students? Their day is beginning."

She watched him sadly, what was he thinking? Not about the attack, but what was whirring through that mind of his? Folding up the Daily Prophet, she lay it back on his desk.

"Of course, Professor," she said and departed.

* * *

Isabelle liked to watch Eris stretch himself out on her bed.

The bobcat created an ambience of comfort, the way his fur contorted and ruffled against the red bedsheets. His claws pummeled in the stream of sunlight peeking through the curtains.

When it was only him and Isabelle awake, the world seemed to still. You could concentrate on your breathing and sometimes if you listened hard enough the beat in your chest sounded like a real drum.

Isabelle exhaled and placed a hand on Eris' side. Compared to her olive skin, his bisque and azure fur made her feel incredibly boring. Every so often, he'd open his eyes and look at her; the big orange eyes glowing in the gentle light.

None of the others had woken up yet. Marlene was snoring gently to Isabelle's right, her arms splayed around her head in awkward angles, drool in the corner of her mouth. Whilst Lily and Amelia slept quietly for once, usually all of them were snoring except for Alice; she was always silent.

Alice was opposite Isabelle, and on top of her form was Elodie, her puffskein. The name was Greek for _white blossom_ , which suited because the thing was ghostly pale. It was staring at Eris from across the room with it's beady eyes, expecting the bobcat to wake and lunge for it.

It never did. Eris was one of the few tamed bobcats in the school, he knew when to hurt something and when to leave it alone.

When she was eleven, still new to the wizarding world in Diagon Alley with her mother and father, they'd come across a hag selling Kneazles in a box outside The Magical Menagerie. Isabelle picked the tiniest one, which turned out to not be so small in the end; and definitely not a Kneazle.

She watched Eris for a couple more moments, not wanting to move him from his well-deserved slumber but unfortunately needing to. Climbing out of her four-poster bed, she wandered into the bathroom and got ready for the day.

After Isabelle was done, she wandered back to her bed. "Do you want to stay here?" She asked Eris after she was done. He pummeled the duvet with his eyes squeezed shut.

 _I guess I am running my errands alone_ , she thought.

Isabelle brushed her hair quickly and exited the dormitory, hurrying down the stairs and into the warm common room. September this year had been uncharacteristically chilly, with the autumn leaves fading into a moldy brown quicker than before. That meant the radiators would be scolding in the library, and _that_ was perfect.

She hurried past the other Gryffindors and went through the portrait door to collect her timetable and return the books she'd borrowed over the summer.

Already in the common room were Sirius Black and James Potter, lounged on the leather chairs with dirt all up their trousers and robes.

Black's long legs were dangling off the edge of the seat, his dark hair fallen across his eyes in a sort of casual elegance James could not achieve. There was a streak of mud across his right cheek, a little bit in his hairline.

James' fluffy hair was matted with sweat, messier than usual; his round glasses were pressed into his face a little painfully as he lay on his front.

Neither noticed Isabelle or the other students coming and going. They were drifting in and out of sleep, eyes drooping as they battled the homely warmth of the fire.

"Always a killer," Sirius groaned, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. His muscles ached, sore from how much digging had to be done this year.

James' eyes fluttered open. After the feast, they didn't return to their beds but separated from Remus and went to the Whomping Willow. Over the summer, it had a tendency to shove dirt into the doorway. Which meant it was a draining task to remove the soil and make the passage to Hogsmeade usable.

James and Sirius only returned after the sun had come up, and Remus was still fast asleep. Both boys guessed he didn't even know what they were doing on the first night of every school year.

He was always the first one in bed.

Sirius looked at Peter on the floor, in an uncomfortable position by the fireplace. His face was mushed into the rug, dirt smeared on his face. He'd attempted to help but was knocked out half way through by one of the branches, his body was flung so far that James and Sirius spent an hour trying to find him and then had to drag his unconscious body back into the castle.

So, he wasn't _really_ asleep. He could've been in a coma for all Sirius knew.

He didn't give Peter much thought after that, instead he thought about how good it would feel to fall back asleep. The first day never mattered, teachers were settling into timetables and everything was slow; he could afford to skip the lessons.

Just as his mind was drifting off to the sweet smell of wood burning, he was snapped awake.

"Good morning, Evans!" James shouted, his eyes lighting up. When she ignored him and hurried past with Alice hooked on her arm, he deflated and met Sirius' eye. "She probably didn't hear me."

"Oh, she heard you. Pretty sure the whole school heard you too."

He huffed in reply, slightly annoyed Lily still wasn't replying to him at all and had turned to ignoring his existence. She'd done it before and he enjoyed the rush he felt from it, an odd feeling that made him think he was still getting a response of sorts from her.

James chewed the inside of his cheek and flopped back down. His lungs yearned for the taste of sour nicotine. "Skipping the first day?" He said. "How does that sound?"

"Bloody brilliant," Sirius' muffled voice erupted from the pillow he'd shoved his face into.

"McGonagall will come after us, though."

"Yeah, but we just simply cannot _leave_ poor Peter knocked out by the fire. She'll think we're heroic or something shite."

James opened his eyes, he was so close to falling asleep that he felt as if he could stay that way for years. However, it was the first day and if they didn't move then detention at the start of term was something he didn't like the sound of.

Groaning, he rolled off the leather sofa and hit the floor with a thud. "Right," he said as he pushed himself up. "Padfoot, get up. What would the beginning of the school year be without us?"

"Probably quieter."

"And boring," James ruffled his hair. Sirius shot up, went to shove his friend, but hit air and tumbled off the chair. Laughing, Potter watched Black struggling to get to his feet. "Come on, you wet-wipe. Pretty sure we've got Charms, then Kettleburn. Oh, have you got the map?"

Sirius reached into his cloak, twisting his face up until he yanked out a squashed piece of parchment. He grinned.

They left Peter in the comfort of the Gryffindor common room, sprinting up to the boys' dormitories after one another.

Before Remus woke, they used the sink to scrub the mud off and told him that Peter had attempted to climb the girls' stairs: he'd slipped on the stone slide it formed and whacked his head; leavening him in a crumpled mess on the floor.

* * *

"I _just_ forgot," Isabelle shrugged, throwing her bag on her shook her head with a faint smile.

"As per usual," Lily replied. "I have to say I'm surprised you even had dinner."

"I... _hmph_." she huffed.

They were walking out of the castle towards their third lesson, _Care of Magical Creatures,_ a subject both had passed with Outstanding in their lesson took place just beyond the Whomping Willow, in a wide space that had been cleared of tall grass next to the Forbidden Forest.

It was Isabelle's favourite subject because the greenery surrounded the area like a tall wall, and sometimes you could see the golden dust of flitterbys.

There were also only thirty pupils in NEWT Care of Magical Creatures, a mixture of the four houses, which was rare - half of them were Hufflepuffs as Kettleburn was their Head of House, the rest were an even mix.

Isabelle looked down at her copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find them by Newt Scamander, it was worn and falling apart she'd read it so often. The first chapter was on rodents, which meant a relaxed hour.

The wind was soothing on the way to Kettleburn's lesson. Soon, it would be getting colder and Isabelle reminded herself to buy some extra socks next time there was a trip to Hogsmeade. There was no way she could ask her mother, the woman could barely send the owl itself.

Looking down to check on Eris, Isabelle smiled at him weaving between her legs. Every so often, he'd stop and roll around in the grass, rubbing his cheeks into the dirt.

To her left, Marlene was watching Eris with jealousy as she held onto a fat, grey owl.

Follet was a screeching bird. He'd been in the family since she was born, once belonging to her father and then being passed down. It was a miracle (some would argue) that he was still alive. Sometimes the fat thing would just sit and stare at people in the common room, unable to join the other owls because he was too aggressive.

Lifting a hand, Marlene went to offer him a treat but Follet started screaming. She clamped his beak shut quickly and hissed: "stupid bird won't shut up! He's got to be pushing fifty years old, I don't get why the thing won't just die, already!"

Lily looked at her, mortified. "Marlene!"

"Don't, Lils. I meant what I said - if I didn't, I wouldn't have said it." She looked at the bird on her arm with disgust, having stopped restraining his mouth. Follet gave Marlene a dirty look.

Suddenly, a tall Hufflepuff which bright brown hair pushed through Lily and Isabelle, reaching for Amelia Johnson. Henry hooked a long arm around Amelia's shoulders, pulling her forward. Isabelle remembered Black taunting her at the feast yesterday, she didn't understand how he could've known they'd gotten together unless Cordals had been blabbing. Hufflepuffs were sneaky gossipers.

He was the same height as her, their eyes meeting romantically. Isabelle shared a glance with Lily.

"How long?"

"Oh, I give it until mid-November."

"October," Isabelle replied.

"Five galleons?"

"Make it a butterbeer and I'll think about it."

"Deal, but only because I'll be right," Lily grinned.

Eris mewled softly up at Isabelle, seemingly forewarning her that he wanted to go off for a bit. She nodded, watching him sprint off to the Dark Forest. He ran through Amelia's legs as she was walking back to them, her hair ruffled and face flustered.

"Henry is an amazing snogger," she said dreamily.

"Well then, why would you leave him? He's all by himself now!" Marlene said, staring at Henry, now alone. " _Mi corazón_ ," Marlene cried, holding her cloak out as if it were a gown and gliding after Henry, _"mi vida, me cielo. Mi amor!"_

Isabelle laughed loudly, watching Amelia run after her friend with her fists clenched. There was a shriek and Marlene was yanked away from the group of Hufflepuffs, her Spanish harangue ending quickly.

"I'm going to kill you!" Amelia hissed, marching their friend like a scolded child. _"Idiota."_

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It's just you usually ignore us when a person of interest turns up."

"I do not!" Amelia looked offended. They all shouted: _"Yes you do!"_

"Well, how do you know he was a person of interest?"

"You would've replied to me in English when I spoke Spanish," Marlene wiggled her thick eyebrows at her and teased, "but you used your mother tongue so that means your mind is full of _pensamientos traviesos_."

"How do you... How do you even know what that means?" Amelia demanded as they reached the clearing. "That's so disgusting!"

Lily looked at Isabelle, confused. "What _does_ it mean?" She hid her snort from a bickering Amelia and Marlene, whispering: "Naughty thoughts."

"That's not too bad."

"No," she glanced at her. Amelia was still bright red and arguing with McKinnon. "But why did she get so irate about it?"

Lily started giggling, her hand going to her mouth so Amelia wouldn't turn around and start snapping at them.

"Yes, it's all very funny." A deep voice snorted unattractively. Isabelle looked up at Avery, a sixth year Slytherin. He pushed his way past, making sure to sneer his pointy nose at her. "What is so funny, little Belle?"

She froze, fumbling over what she wanted to say. Avery grinned, placing a hand to his ear. "What was that? Did you st-st-stutter?"

Her cheeks turned pink, embarrassed and unable to think of something to snap back. There was nothing worse than being in a house known for it's sarcasm and wit, but being the one person who couldn't form a sentence including any of it.

"Leave me alone, Avery." She mumbled, trying to side-step him to reach the other side of the class

"Leave you alone?" His face turned sour. "How can I? When you're ridiculous giggling is making my ears bleed. What was it then? A little muggle joke I won't understand? I don't understand how you could, have read the newspaper this morning?"

Isabelle frowned, her eyes falling to crumples sheets in his hand. "What? What do you mean?"

"Oh, no, the message isn't that obvious but it shouldn't take that long for you to figure out - don't all you muggles-"

Lily glared up at him. "Will you go away? Neither of us want to see, talk or have _anything_ to do with you. So, do us a favour and just piss off!"

Alecto Carrow had been standing back from the bickering, a smug look on her ugly face. That was until Lily spoke, she uncrossed her arms and slid up next to Avery.

Isabelle had always thought she'd never seen a girl look so ugly. Her hair had been dyed over the summer, poorly. It used to be a moldy dirt-blonde but was now black; the roots were creeping in and made it appear her scalp was oozing with grease. Her brother, Amycus, looked the same. Isabelle remembered him on her sorting day, a lanky boy with long hair that cheered for Alecto when she was sorted into Slytherin.

Her beady black eyes landed on Lily. "How _dare_ you speak to him like that." She drooled. "He's just trying to do the class a justice and get rid of you both, filthy little-"

Avery raised a hand to her, the left side of his lip raised in a sickened grimace. "Now, now, Alecto. Let's not going throwing names around." She quietened, giving him a quick glance. "Do you know what she was going to say, though? I'll give you ten points if you can guess."

Isabelle clenched her teeth together, not finding the amusement. She knew exactly what Alecto was going to say because she'd said it all before, it was an old game.

"So you do know," Avery smiled looking between Lily and the other Gryffindor. "You do know what you are. I guess... that makes it okay for you to say it now, Alecto. Go on."

Eris was at Isabelle's feet, hissing up at Avery as if he sensed the Slytherins' hostility. One of his paws were raised, thin claws emerging. She suddenly felt proud, a smile crept onto her face. Avery eyed the beast, turning his nose up.

"That shite creature gonna stand up for you? How long are you gonna wait before you actually do something instead of cowering back?"

There was a booming laugh which caught the Slytherins' attention. Looking behind them, they saw Kettleburn with James and the rest of them heading towards the class. The Professor appeared to be red with giggles at something one of the boys of said, an emotion the rest of the students could not relate with.

Glaring at Potter with an unfathomable hatred, Avery then hit Isabelle with an icy glare. "We'll see just who's laughing in the end." He threw the newspaper at her, she caught it just before it hit her face. "Just you wait, mudbloods, 'cause your friends ain't gonna protect you."

She watched him saunter off with Alecto on his arm, her ugly face pressed to his chest. Isabelle's own heart was beating furiously away, she hated speaking to them.

"Isabelle!" Millicent Gygars cried, hurrying over as soon as the Slytherins were out of earshot. "Oh, I saw them talking to you. What did they say? What did he give you?"

She held up the newspaper in her hands, confused. Amelia and Marlene had stopped squabbling and had hurried back, catching Avery's last words. All of the girls looked down at the paper, their eyebrows furrowed.

"What a load of shite," Marlene bit. "Don't let him get to you, he's the one who can't read more than five words - that's why hes only doing three NEWT exams."

Isabelle didn't laugh, she turned over the Daily Prophet in her hands, it's headline read:

 _HARROWING ATTACK IN HANGING GARDENS VILLAGE_

Beneath the bold font was a single, large picture of several families huddled together. Their backs were to the reader, all of them staring up at a great fire burning away. It was on a hill, several buildings could be made out in the flames; a house, a granary and a church. The spire could be seen sticking out at an odd angle, moments from snapping off and collapsing into a pile of rubble like the rest of the town.

Lily moved around to stand next to her, a worried look on her face. "What is it, Bells? Why would he throw that at us?"

"Probably because he'd get expelled if he threw a punch," Marlene snapped, she tugged her sleeves up and pretended to start boxing. Follet tried to balance on her shoulder, his wings flapping wildly. "I'd like to see those prats try, I've been practicing my moves."

"Mar, they'll see you and then give you something to start throwing punches around."

"Good. I'm ready-"

Amelia gave her a hard shove. "Shut it, Marlene. He didn't throw it to do that. There's been an attack on a muggle village in Scotland."

"An attack?"

"Merlin, it sounds like they're attacking the Ministry. It's written so insensitively."

"Let me see," Amelia said heavily, saddling up close to Isabelle. "Ministry blunders... culprits not apprehended... lacks security... Dark wizards running unchecked... national disgrace... Who wrote this? Ah... of course... Rita Skeeter."

"That woman's got it in for the Ministry of Magic!" said Millicent cried, her lower lip wobbled. "Last week she was saying we're wasting our time quibbling about cauldron thickness, when we should be stamping out trolls! As if it wasn't specifically stated in paragraph twelve of the Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard Part-Humans —"

"Do us a favor, Millie," said Marlene, yawning, "and shut up."

"Hogwarts is mentioned," Lily's eyes were wide, Isabelle pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and stared at the paper.

"Where?" asked Amelia, her hand began fiddling with the ends of her hair, Isabelle noticed she'd picked up that nervous habit back during their OWL exams. "I'm going to wring my hands around their necks if there's a single bad word!"

"No, no. No, it's not too awful." Isabelle tried to say calmly so she wouldn't exert herself. "Listen to this:

' _If the terrified wizards and witches who waited breathlessly for news at the edge of the village border expected reassurance from the Ministry of Magic, they were sadly disappointed. A Ministry official emerged some time after the appearance of the Dark Mark alleging that nobody had been hurt, but refusing to give any more information. Whether this statement will be enough to quash the rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods an hour later, remains to be seen. However, sources say that Albus Dumbledore was ordered to the scene as the village was just under a hundred miles from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._ '

When she read out the final sentence, she frowned deeply. Under a hundred miles from the school seemed far, but Hogwarts was in the middle of nowhere so it must've been the closest thing yet.

"Nobody was hurt but ' _Rumors that several bodies were removed from the woods'_. . . oh, no."

Millicent watched Isabelle with big eyes, chewing her thumb. "A body is meant to be seen, not all covered up."

Taking the Daily Prophet, Marlene tried to ignore the girl. "No, no. I heard Dumbledore talking to Hagrid earlier, they mentioned the Hanging Gardens," Marlene suddenly said. The girls looked at her and she nodded earnestly. "Yes. I did, Dumbledore sounded worried and I heard Hagrid ask about how many really died."

"And what was the answer? What did Dumbledore say?"

Marlene looked down at the paper. "I couldn't hear them, they disappeared to the fifth floor. I didn't think anything of it because I hadn't read the paper."

 _It was serious then,_ Isabelle thought quickly. Her chest became heavy, realizing that the attack was on muggles and if the dark mark was there then it was wizards who'd made them the target.

She gripped her forefinger tightly, exhaling.

"Ahem, Miss Williams. I hate to be an annoyance but you are in the way of the door," Kettleburn's voice came from behind her. She jumped and stumbled out of the archway.

Throughout the introduction to NEWT Care of Magical Creatures, Isabelle tried not to pay attention to the Slytherins stood on the opposite side of the circular area; Avery, Alecto and Wilkes. They sniggered at Kettleburn during his speech about the beauty of magic, and then his demonstration of Clabberts and Chizpurfles.

It took nearly forty minutes to reach the practical side of the lesson. Kettleburn split them into four, handing them all several creatures to examine. Isabelle was half way through her sketch of her clabbert when she noticed Kettleburn chasing after a pair of flying ones.

His yellow cloak flapped behind his body wildly as he brandished his wand to try and get James and Sirius Black to stop messing around. They were the ones who'd charmed their clabberts to wrestle midair and were howling with laughter until the end; only letting their animals down when they realised it was lunch.

"How did they managed to pass their OWLs?" Lily huffed, watching Remus run after Sirius and James. He gave Black a shove and their laughter echoed.

"Remus is smart," Isabelle said. "I'm not surprised he's in NEWT level but Sirius and James are two of the thickest boys I've ever met."

Lily snorted. "Do you remember in our Herbology exam they were passing notes to one another?"

"That's why they got an un-markable."

They continue to laugh their way up to castle over Potter and Black. It was mainly Lily who had an endless list of thing she found annoying about them. She dragged Marlene into the conversation, who had no choice but to listen to the rant.

Isabelle fell back from them, walking beside Eris at a slower pace.

"What was the message then, Williams?" Alecto sneered. He walked past her, turning around to drawl: "Or at least did you see the picture? Can muggles see them moving? I've always wanted to know."

Why couldn't they leave her alone?

Isabelle told herself to look down: _Look at the ground and they'll leave you alone, keep your eyes on the floor and it'll be fine._ She hurried in the opposite direction of the students heading off to lunch, not in the mood to eat anything.

Instead, she took a route which was a winding path down. The stairs were slick with wet mud, she nearly slipped several times and thanked Merlin when she reached the bottom. A blooming patch of baby pumpkins and cabbages sat outside the front of the gamekeeper's hut beside the dark forest.

Smiling at Hagrid's home, she took in the familiar round shape and mossy stones that built it's walls. The roof was a sloping, nearly flat cone shape with a chimney sticking out of the murky tiles; grey smoke was erupting from it. That meant good food, a warm hearth and all the comforts of a gentle giant.

It wasn't particularly big considering he was ten feet tall, but it matched his kind and inviting nature. Outside the dark oak door were a pair of galoshes and a crossbow, and on the windowsills either side were an array of baby goosegrass plants. She suspected he was growing them for NEWT potions' lessons, their syllabus started with creating a draught of anti-scurvy (a key ingredient was the goosegrass).

Isabelle knocked on the door and could smell fresh bread before the it opened. She looked up at him, three times her height and with a frizzy beard that didn't do well to hide his surpirsed smile. He was wearing a yellow apron and hideous pink oven mitts.

"'Ello Isabelle." He said loudly, waving a covered hand. She was right, he had been baking for there was an enormous loaf of brown bread on the table in the far corner of his living room. "And 'ello Eris, lovely to see yer both. No Lily today?"

"She was preoccupied by Potter again," Isabelle rolled her eyes. "I lost her on the way back from a lesson."

Hagrid gave a bellowing laugh, moving out of the way to reveal Dargis, a huge great dane which was the same size as her. It's solid body hit Isabelle in the stomach, knocking the wind out. She didn't mind though, a dog was a dog.

"Hello, gorgeous," she cooed.

"He's really missed yer, Bells. Summers are a little quiet here." Hagrid smiled broadly, petting Eris.

Her bobcat growled then when his eyes landed on the dog. Dargis stopped shoving himself at Isabelle, ramming into her side in an attempt to reach the other pet.

Eris hissed, flying past Hagrid and onto a shelf high against the wall. He sat there beside the pots and vases with a disgusted look on his face, staring down at the hound who'd attempted to follow and was pawing at the stone wall.

"Stupid dog," Hagrid sighed, wandering over to the kettle. "Cup o' tea? Or you goin' to lunch?"

Isabelle didn't like the sound of his second question. She clasped her hands together, "I'd love a drink, actually."

Hagrid asked her about her first day back, about her summer and where she went with her parents. It confused him to hear that people could fly in great contraptions through the sky when there was such thing as a floo network; whilst Isabelle found it funny, he kept frowning.

He seemed interested in what she had to say about the students as well, their behavior that morning and what they were talking about. When Isabelle told him about Avery and Alecto calling her a mudblood, he nearly spilled milk all over the side.

"They did not!" He said angrily. "Why, I'll go ter' Dumbl'dore about this!"

"Please, Hagrid. It means nothing to me, really," she smiled softly. Him getting angry met he wouldn't make a good cup of tea.

Dargis had stopped making noises for Eris and had gone to staring at him. From the rug, he sat with big blue eyes that were transfixed on the bobcat, his tail twitching slightly. The creature looked away from the dog, unimpressed; instead sniffing the objects that it was sat next to.

"... that Avery is a nasty piece o' work, Bells." Hagrid continued, returning with two giant teacups. They were blue with white spots, bigger than Isabelle's hands put together. She struggled with the hefty drinking, lowering it to her lap so it warmed her legs.

"I don't feel... upset that I'm muggle-born," she murmured. "But... _Sometimes_ I wish I were pure-blood, then I could just stay invisible."

Hagrid gave her a sad look. "Don't go sayin' tha'. Look yer not gon' please ev'ryone yer meet. Is that what's worryin' yer'? Why worry when yer takin' care o' magical creatures, righ'?"

Isabelle smiled at him, he had a passion for all the animals on the grounds of Hogwarts. Once Kettleburn finally left, she would love to see Hagrid as the Professor. "Of course, it's my best subject."

He laughed, "nah, it's not. Slughorn's been sayin' that yer potions is brilliant."

"I suppose so. He's a wonderful teacher but it's ridiculously obvious who his favourites are."

"Bet yer one of them. So who cares."

Taking a big gulp of tea to stop herself from laughing, she fought not to nod. Slughorn had offered Lily and herself places in the Slugclub last year if they continued it into NEWT. However, they were going off topic, and the way Hagrid spoke about muggle-borns made her feel better so she wanted to bring it back.

"Hagrid," she said after a quiet moment. "This morning there was an article about an attack in a muggle village. And I saw you with Dumbledore, you were talking about it - I know you were. Are they rumours? Was there really... the mark?"

She didn't like lying to him. It was Marlene who'd seen the conversation but Hagrid didn't have to know that. The look Isabelle gave him was full of plea for truth, for a finale to whether muggles were being murdered again after a period of silence. The attacks over the summer hadn;t been murders, but wild claims of the imperius curse or seeing dark creatures down alleyways.

"Bells," he said sadly. "I don't wan'ta scare yer. Come on now, yer should be gettin' back to the school."

"Hagrid, please. If you don't tell me then Lily will come looking, and she's more aggressive than I am." He had taken to fiddling with his mug, awkwardly holding the handle so he didn't have to meet her gaze. "Hagrid," she said again, louder. "Was the mark there?"

The Dark Mark's name had been created ten years ago in an article by a muggle-born writer, no one had known what to call it before; just a skull with a serpent unravelling it's way through it's mouth. It was the bringer of death and hadn't been seen in the sky for several years.

The gameskeeper sighed and nodded, unable to look up. "Yer, Bells. Dumbl'dore said the mark was in ther' sky."

"So it wasn't just muggles that were attacked, there was a muggle-born wizard there too. Which means the attacks are real, and he... he's back-"

Isabelle went off in a tangled mumble, trying to figure out what the attack could mean. If He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named had returned then what would it lead to? Had another article been written like the one when Isabelle was a little girl.

"Alrigh' that's enough," Hagrid suddenly said. Isabelle looked up in surprise. "No more scaring yerself with this."

"Hagrid, I'm a muggle born. If they're being targeted again, what does this mean?"

"It means nothin'. Yer gonna give yerself nigh'mares." Hagrid said loudly, he stood up and went over to the sink with his empty mug. When Hagrid was under pressure, he had a tendancy to eat or drink himself to death.

There was a noise outside of students heading to last lesson and Isabelle rose to go to Charms. She didn't want him to be angry with her, she didn't want to be angry at herself either.

In silence, Hagrid opened the door but then put a giant hand on her shoulder. "My ol' dad used ter say 'there's some who'll hold it against yer, but they're not worth bothering with.' An' he was right, don't be ashamed of what yer are. That's what'll destroy yer, you'll be fine. Yer'll see."

* * *

The evening of Hogwarts' first day ended with a mellow atmosphere. It was still chilly but the days had not yet begun to shorten. As the sun finally began to set, it created a soft orange glow in the Gryffindor Common Room.

The yellow hues danced across the window pane and rugs, up the stone walls and tapestries. Once or twice, the first years caught the painting of Bartholomew the Brusque dozing off in the gentle warmth of the sunlight.

It was busier in the common room, after the feast many wanted to sit back and try to relax. However, that was proving impossible; countless professors had set lengthy homework tasks to kick start the school year properly.

Even Isabelle had been set a long parchment of freezing spell incantations to learn for Flitwick by Monday. It was difficult, several sixth years accidentally froze their fingers together before the feast and the rest had decided to eat first then commit failed attempts afterwards.

Amelia was huddled next to the fire, holding her foot up awkwardly to try and melt the ice between her toes before she went to see Henry. When Isabelle told that he'd appreciate the fact she'd pampered her feet for him, Henry know for definite she was the one. Amelia responded by throwing up her middle finger.

Thankfully, Isabelle hadn't frozen any limbs and was comfortably lay on Alistair's chest, a book balanced in front of her as she read. Listening to the thumping of his heart soothed her into a rhythmic mode of breathing; able to concentrate fully on the pages which took her thoughts.

Alistair had an arm hooked around Isabelle as she lay on his chest, he looked down at her reading, wondering what could be so fascinating that she was barely able to hold a conversation for more than a minute.

"Iz," He murmured, moving his hand to start stroking her hair. "Do you want to go back to Hufflepuff? The lighting it better there."

She shook her head, looking up at him. "I'm alright. When the sun goes down then we can go there."

" _Or_ we can go whilst the sun is still up. Owens said he needed me to help with some Potions work," he raised an eyebrow. "Or you can help him, you're better than me at it."

She shut the book loudly, pushing herself into a sitting position. "You just want me to do his homework for you both, don't you?"

He grinned, leaning up on his elbows. "Well... when you put it that way it does sound-"

"Selfish."

"Selfish, but I'll love you even more if you did."

Rolling her eyes, she rolled back and leaned against the other side of the chair. "That's an impossibility. You should love me the most you can now."

"Please, Iz?" He begged. She didn't know why he hadn't mentioned it before, they'd already been in Gryffindor for hours. Isabelle went to protest but was bombarded with a flurry of sloppy kisses across her cheeks and nose. Ali pressed his lips to every inch of skin he could get his hands on, trying to pull her back to his chest. "Fine," she said, muffled. He didn't stop. Her small fists hit at his chest as she cried, "fine! I'll help him. Get off of me!"

"That is the most disgusting thing." Marlene's voice emerged from the common room entrance. Isabelle moved away from Alistair to see her come into view. "Move, midget." Marlene snapped at a first year sat on the leather seat beside the fire. The girl gave a squeak, scrambled to pick up her parchment and ink and disappeared to the girls' dormitories.

"I must say, you always have a way with words, McKinnon." Alistair said, running a hand through his hair. It was slightly shorter this year, but just as red; Isabelle liked how it matched his eyes.

"Shut it, Anscombe. I didn't storm in here for sarcasm. I found something out about the attack on Hanging Garden. They're not-."

"I am done with him! I am so close to losing my absolute rag. I swear on Merlin, Order First Class and all that is magical that I-" Lily Evans had been having a bad afternoon since she left Charms. She'd gone to the library to begin studying for the Potions lesson on Monday, but found herself trapped by James Potter. He'd thrown himself all over the desk to try and impress her but ended up spilling ink everywhere.

Barking the password at the portrait, she stormed in and furiously rubbed at her cheek which was stained with black, not bothering to greet her friends and interrupting Marlene with an exasperated screech.

Isabelle and Alistair stared at her, their mouths open slightly.

"What?" She snapped. "Can I not be angry? Am I really that transparent as a human being that I'm only seen as something for Potter to fancy?"

"Well, that's my cue to leave." Alistair's thick eyebrows were raised. He gave Isabelle a quick kiss, murmuring an 'I love you' before departing the common room to do his Potions alone.

Isabelle watched him go, then turned back to her friend with a defeated sigh.

"Do you want me to get rid of that for you?" Pointing to the huge mark of black ink on Lily's pale skin, she asked her. Lily nodded, embarrassed she'd scared Ali off. Isabelle murmured: _"Tergeo."_

Her red haired friends went quiet, taking a seat on the sofa with a controlled face. After a moment, she looked to Marlene, "you may continue."

Amelia crawled away from the fire, her black sock in hand. "Continue what? What's going on?"

"Marlene overheard Professor Dumbledore talking about the attack again. To someone else, not Hagrid. Although, I did go to him and asked what happened."

"You went to Hagrid?" They all asked in unison. "Without us?"

"I-I didn't like how Avery spoke, I just wanted to speak to him about it. He avoided my question, I couldn't get anything from him - he said I'd give myself nightmares. " Isabelle shrugged, she tugged her bottom lip between her teeth.

The girls frowned and turned back to Marlene who's face had become grave, she couldn't bring herself to look Isabelle or Lily in the eye. "It was dozens, it was the entire village," she dropped to a whisper. "And it wasn't because they were muggles, there was a muggle-born there."

* * *

 **References Made in the Chapter:**

\- The name _'Eris'_ I found in _Hesiod's_ poetry. Eris was the Goddess of chaos, even though Eris is a boy, I like the idea of him being quite passive-aggressive.

\- The conversation about _'Ministry blunders'_ is taken from the Weasley conversation during the _Goblet of Fire_! Kudos if you recognised it:D

\- _Dargis_ is a surname of Lithuanian origin. It is derived from words meaning ugly.

\- The _Hanging Gardens_ Village is a reference to the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, one of the seven wonders of the world. They're surrounded by a lot of secrets and mystery as they were built around 290BC by Nebuchadnezzar II.

\- _Flitterbys_ are a species of moth in the Harry Potter Universe which hum and having glowing wings!

\- " _That meant good food, a warm hearth and all the comforts of Hagrid"_ is an adaptation from Tolkien's _'The Hobbit'_ \- such a beautiful story which I HAD to reference.

\- "A body is meant to be seen, not all covered up" is a real-life quote from Marilyn Monroe.

* * *

 _ **Replies:**_ xxcaitlinxx \- Thank you for finding it engaging! I really wanted a protagonist who has a life set up already, it makes it seem as if the build is more believable, so thank you for noticing:)

whoatherebuddy \- I am literally obsessed with the Harry Potter Universe, I want to include as much detail as possible about all aspects. Thank you for reviewing my first chapter!

lannisterdebt \- Thank you so much for saying that! It means the world hearing what readers think.

snoflakequeen \- Exactly! Me too. I am in love with the building romance, the subtle feelings becoming more and the emotional side of how people feel. I like writing realistically and I also cannot stand reading fanfictions where the characters fall in love immediately.


	3. Witch Burning Was Completely Pointless

_Author's Note: Here is chapter three! i am so thrilled by the response to this fanfiction, it's amazing and I thank everyone who followed and favourited. Also Remus is Quidditch captain, I like the idea of him a player and I know in Snape's memory it says he focused on his studies but that is different too and it's never mentioned whether Alice was a Prewett but there is speculation so she is here - i'm sorry if you do not like it._

 _Also I'm sorry if this seems like it's been written weirdly, I'm nursing a painful hangover._

 _BUT PLEASE REVIEW, I LOVE REVIEWERS AND READERS PLEASE!_

 _Disclaimer: all place, characters and ideas belong to J.K Rowling. I own nothing except for Isabelle._

* * *

 _Chapter Three: Witch Burning in the Fourteenth Century Was Completely Pointless_

* * *

"You'd think people had better things to gossip about," said Marlene as she sat down opposite Isabelle at the breakfast table. "A whole village have been massacred, and all Mary Shakespeare does is ask me if you're thinking of breaking up with Alistair anytime soon."

Marlene could be insensitive. She blurted out the wrong things, swore a little too often and paid no attention to the social norm. Isabelle was reminded of that, that morning.

Alice Prewett and Frank Longbottom missed the comment and burst into laughter. Isabelle frowned. "What did you tell her?"

"I told her to mind her own damn business," said Marlene, using a large spoon to shovel mushrooms onto her plate.

"Did she say anything else?"

"Asking whether the boys do their Quidditch tryouts shirtless. She's going to watch on Sunday."

Rolling her eyes, Isabelle took a big bite of toast. "You should've told her that it's the onlookers who go shirtless and dye their hair bright red to show support."

"Oh, no. She'd enjoy flashing the stands. That girl wouldn't know dignity if it jumped in front of her naked wearing Hagrid's galoshes and cooking apron." With a loud gulp, Marlene swallowed the bite of toast. "Have I missed anything?" She asked.

"The post arrived but the Daily Prophet didn't mention a thing about the killings. Absolutely nothing, it's as if it never happened."

In fact, the front cover that morning was celebrating an anniversary for Newt Scamander's book release anniversary. Isabelle went to ask about what else Mary had asked when Follet crashed into a large bowl of scrambled egg. It threw food out in every direction, splattering the table with yellow.

"Bloody hell," Marlene groaned. Grabbing Follet's barely conscious body, she dangled him by his leg and yanked the letter tied around his foot, muttering: "why can't you just fly into a fucking wall and do me a favour."

Dragging pieces of breakfast from her hair, Isabelle smiled when she caught Frank helping Alice get it out of hers. She wasn't sure what had happened over the summer, Alice was always private about that aspect of her life.

"Oh, it's just from mum and dad," Marlene read out. "They're on a trip to Bulgaria to try and debunk the great myths of Alexander Nevsky - apparently there's hidden runes in the architecture."

"My parents like to visit Cornwall," Isabelle sighed, thinking about her own mundane holidays. The idea of muggles gave her a forgotten thought, digging into her bag, she yanked out the books rolling around in there.

"Is that a muggle studies book? What are you doing Muggle Studies for?" said Marlene, rolling her eyes at Isabelle. "You're Muggle-born! Your mum and dad are Muggles! You already know all about them. We had this conversation last year."

Isabelle liked muggle studies. "It's an easy NEWT, the ministry like seeing an expansive education."

"How many NEWTS are you taking this year? You've been in every single on of my classes so far."

"Well, I'm taking more new subjects than you, aren't I?" said Isabelle. "Those are my books for Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures, Divination, Defense, Muggle Studies, Potions —"

"That's ridiculous. Muggle studies is—"

"None of your business. I can handle seven NEWTs, I've already started revising for Potions."

"Are you planning to eat or sleep at all this year, Isabelle?" Sniggered Marlene. She was only taking four, her course in apparition examining meant all she had to do was gain an 'O' in apparating and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"I need the subjects to get into the Ministry, I really want to be part an executive in the education department. Learning is what I enjoy, now go back to trying to kill your bird instead of killing my dreams."

Alice laughed and looked to Isabelle. "You want to work for the ministry? Frank wants to be an auror there, he'll really passionate." Frank went red, looking down at the sound of the Prewett girl's proud voice.

"That would be amazing. Didn't you get an O in Defense Against the Dark Arts, Frank?"

He looked up, nodding. "Yeah, I did. It was the only subject I really revised for."

She couldn't wait for Defense Against the Dark Arts, the jinxes were captivating and as it was an advanced level, she would learn her patronus. She'd tried before to conjure one, but was unable to think of her happiest moment.

Alice brushed the table in front of her of crumbs and breakfast parts. She asked: "Have you looked into applying for the Department of Education, yet? I heard they hire straight out of Hogwarts if you're interested enough."

"Yes! I had to write this ridiculously massive thesis on Newt Scamander and why he changed the curriculum for young witches and wizards. It must've been twenty thousand words long."

"Isabelle?"

She looked up to see Remus on the other side of the table, just a little further down the table to Marlene's left. He must've been there the whole morning with James and Sirius; Peter had his head down as he shoveled bacon into his mouth.

Isabelle couldn't help but notice that Remus looked shattered, the bags beneath his eyes were deep purple.

"Were you talking about that essay you wrote for the education director? Were my notes alright?" He asked, a couple of pieces of hair fell down his forehead.

"Absolutely," she smiled. "I would've been so lost, I didn't know what the hell an ashwinder was until you gave me them."

"I think we're doing that this year in Kettleburn's lesson, you know. He told me it's his favourite creature because they set fire to the robes of students he doesn't like."

Laughing, she imagined the sweet bliss of seeing Alecto with her ugly hair on fire, screaming her way back to the castle with Avery behind her. "That'll be the greatest thing I'll see this year. Thank you, Remus."

"Don't worry about it. You saved my potion grade in our OWL exams. I spent so much time focusing on Quidditch... probably shouldn't have tried out for Quidditch captain now I think about it."

Isabelle laughed again and shook her head. "No, don't be silly. You're the best captain Gryffindor have had. Do you remember in our third when Harlow...?"

"Merlin, he flew into the goal post during our lat match and we lost to Hufflepuff, again. I thought my head was going to explode. Prongs, do you remember?"

James looked up from his conversation with Peter and Sirius, a scowl appeared on his face. "I remember. Anscombe still doesn't let it go because I was the one who caught Harlow before he smashed himself up, falling from that height. Bloody prat..." He caught Isabelle's gaze, realizing he'd called her boyfriend that without remorse. His mind burned with embarrassment, thinking she'd go back to Lily and tell her how horrible he'd been about Ali. "I-uh... I mean he's alright. Just sometimes mentions it. I didn't mean to call him that."

There was a sudden enslaught of shouting. Isabelle looked up, stunned, at the two Gryffindors bustling around the tables in a stressed flurry. Zachary and Felicia Lynch were the twin prefects and known for being overbearing in every aspect of their lives. When they weren't shouting at each other, they were shouting at the rest of the school.

Zachary stumbled over to the Gryffindor table, he was breathing heavily with a hand clutched to his chest. "You must excuse me," he breathed. "But I've lost my prefect badge and I was wondering if any of you have seen it? I left it on the table last night and it's just gone!"

The dozen or so students sat peering up at him shook their heads, not one remembered seeing the object at all. He turned his round nose up and let out a huff.

"I really need that badge, if any of you see it, inform me immediately."

James stifled his grin. "Sure, mate. We'll let you know."

Zachary narrowed his eyes at the Potter boy for a moment, trying to figure out something hidden in the supressed smile. He then threw himself from the table and stormed off to meet his sister at the entrance hall doors. The pair of them glared at the hundred or so pupils at breakfast and turned to look elsewhere.

Marlene scoffed. It wasn't often she liked someone and Zachary, as well as his sister, were no exception. "Merlin," she sighed. "I wish I'd have nicked it. I could blackmail him into giving me the Lynch family fortune then."

"I don't think he loves the badge that much," Frank smiled.

"Oh no, he definitely does. I saw the sweat on his brow. Just you wait, he'll announce the engagement soon."

Sirius had watched Zachary leave the hall, a big smile on his face. When he turned back to the table, it was even bigger. "That being said he finds it," he laughed. James gave him a shove.

Alice blinked. "What did you do?"

There was a beat of silence, where Isabelle watched Remus share a knowing look with each of his friends. They all grinned as if reading each other's minds before James said: "We've got it and we've been improving it."

He opened his hand, the red pin sat neatly in his palm.

The badge now read _Bighead Boy_.

Looking up at Sirius and James' smug faces, she shook her head in disapproval. "Leave it by the fire in the common room, he'll think Peeves was playing around with it."

"Okay, I'll leave it by the fire." James smiled. He flicked it up in the air and caught it, pocketing the shiny object. He was going to do as Isabelle said, but not change the name.

She was already moving onto the next subject. "Speaking of Quidditch, Amelia wants to try and join the team this year. She's really talented, she applied for a junior apprenticeship with the Holyhead Harpies."

"Johnson?" Remus asked, chewing some food. "I've never seen her play before. Why didn't she try out last year?"

"She was going to but Avery told her that girls didn't belong on the team, he was really awful to her."

Sirius raised an eyebrow. "And she doesn't care what he said to her this year?" Isabelle shook her head.

"I told her that any prat can hold a broom and only one person a year can get an apprenticeship with a Quidditch Team, that's her."

Remus grinned, he liked the idea of having a player who had a grudge against the Slytherins, it meant you had a reason to try your hardest. Johnson just had to pass tryouts. "Should go well, then," he grinned. "We need a new chaser and beaters."

Sirius and James exchanged a glance, they hated tryouts. The day was always long, and boring, and painful. "Will you all be watching then?" James asked Isabelle and the two other girls. "All your friends, I mean."

 _Lily, he means._ "Yes, of course." She replied. "We'll all be there for Amelia. Didn't Millicent say she wanted to go too, Mar?" She went to ask her friend but James interrupted.

"For Amelia," he repeated. Then a slow grin crept onto his face. "That'll be a first. All the girls usually turn up for Sirius, are you sure you're not trying to hide Millicent's secret obsession with him?"

Isabelle's eyes widened. The cheek of Potter and Black was a ridiculous display of egotistical masculinity. "Actually," she sneered. "Millicent has no feelings whatsoever for Black. People usually don't like the prats who bully them."

"Bully?" Sirius gasped. "I do not bully. Even if I did, I'm irresistible so it doesn't matter."

Isabelle looked gave him a tired look. That stupid smug grin on his face was just waiting for a smack, specifically from her very large divination book.

"That's the truth, Williams. I'm just too good looking to be a bully. If I really hurt feelings then I'd be a Slytherin. You should have written this down in your little thesis: Sirius Black is an unbeaten, irresistible wizard who—"

"The truth is that you don't think their exists a girl which finds you just as intolerable as those slimy Slytherins," interrupted Isabelle angrily. "You ego is the ugliest thing I've ever seen."

"Yeah?" Sirius' eyes snapped to her, feeling like a couple of wasp stings as he dropped his voice lowly, "well at least I can talk to a Slytherin. All I've heard is that you bottle it every-time one of them breathes in your direction."

Isabelle's mouth dropped open She scowled at him and was so angry that she couldn't bring herself to answer back. Hence making her angrier as she couldn't even screech back at a Gryffindor. She threw the last of her toast down and left the table.

"I really should..." Alice stuttered to Frank, pointing to Isabelle. "I'll see you later."

Marlene tutted the boys and stuck her nose up in the air, storming off after her two friends with a flick of short hair. When all three girls disappeared, Sirius shook his head:

"Women," Sirius said wisely to Frank. "They're easily upset."

"And yet," He replied, looking away from vacant seats. "I doubt you'd find a woman who sulked for half an hour because they weren't voted best hair of the year after their OWL exams." Frank then picked up his Potions book and swung his legs over the bench, leaving the table and the hall.

Peter watched him go, confused. "Why'd he leave?" He asked James.

Potter dug his spoon into the bowl of porridge. "Probably because if he runs, he'll be able to catch up with Prewett and get a snog."

With everyone who wasn't his three friends gone, Remus let out an exhausted sigh. He dropped his fork as if it hurt to hold his grip for too long. For the last few nights, he'd been having odd dreams about the moon and how much more painful his transformations had become ever since he was a boy. It reminded him to be grateful that his friends understood what it was like, he couldn't imagine going to the whomping willow all alone.

The tree was buried a couple years before Remus had arrived, after Dumbledore came to his home and offered him a place at Hogwarts. He planted the Willow and charmed it to grow so Remus had a place of solice every few weeks. Dumbledore's charms had malifunctioned slightly and left the tree to become a dramatic and calamitous object which knocked out a couple of students every now and again.

It's name had come from how hard it would thump it's branches into the dirt and it's tactical defense system - beating the approacher to death.

However, the idea of turning into animagus to travel into the heart of the Whomping Willow was Sirius' idea in third year. They'd noticed that stunning the great tree caused it stress, the bark was beginning to rot and so the best way to get inside was to have a small creature dig through the grass, to press the knot at it's base and calm it down.

Becoming an animagi was more difficult that inventing the idea at thirteen years old. It took an entire year and a half, with several hand-butchered attempts to fix broken limbs, misplaced body parts and half-human, half-creature transformations.

Peter was the most willing out of the three of them to become the rodent who grabbed the knot, he wanted to help as much as he could. It was Padfoot and Prongs that wanted to be bigger, and stronger for Remus.

"Moony, have you had your potion?" James asked. "We can go to Pomfrey tonight, you know."

"No, no. It's not the full moon, but I can feel it coming. It's like an ache in my chest."

Sirius leaned over the table and put a cloth over the porridge Moony had slushed from his dropped cutlery, he offered a smile. "Don't let it get to you, mate. We still have a couple of days until you need to take the draught, we need you for Quidditch practice as well. Why not just go to sleep early?"

"I go to sleep early, every night. You'll think I'm a boring sod."

"No we won't," Potter grinned. "That would mean we didn't think that in the first place."

Remus laughed lightly, looking down as his dry hands. "Fine, I'll sleep early." He felt a little better knowing they would go with him to take the wolfsbane or to the whomping willow. Lifting his tired gaze, he offered a drowsy smile to Peter, who was watching him worriedly.

Sirius and James helped Remus carry his heavy books to their first class together, whilst Peter hurried off to grab the best seats in the class.

* * *

Isabelle didn't like being called cowardly. A deep paranoia began in her third period, Muggle Studies. What if the entire house were beginning to notice she couldn't live up to the Gryffindor name?

She was worrying so much that she could barely hold a conversation with Remus, who was sat beside her and asking about the ministry again. He was always genuinely interested in everyone, like he was trying to make sure you liked him.

"I love teaching," Isabelle offered. "I just don't like being taught by people who aren't passionate, you know?"

"That's a good way to look at things. I think you'd be an amazing teacher, better than babbling Burbage. She's just obsessed with muggles, not what we can learn from them."

"I think it's because we stress her out too much," Isabelle said, throwing a look back to Peter Pettigrew, James and Sirius charming their socks to dance across the table. Remus had arrived late and the only seat left was beside her, which he didn't mind.

Remus laughed lightly, scratching an old scab on his arm. "Yeah, I wouldn't be able to teach. I like healing."

"Have St. Mungo's offered a thesis for students to write?" Isabelle joked. He shook his head, a smile on his thin lips. "No," he replied. "I just need six O's at NEWT and then I'll try."

Professor Burbage interrupted at that time, beginning the class. She was an incredibly tall woman, but unlike Professor McGonagall she wasn't elegant or intimidating. Her hair was a grey mess, like dyed straw that had been electrocuted. With a large, oval face and pink lips, she gave the appearance of what a woman would look like if they were the grandchild of a hag.

"The Voynich Manuscript is one of the bigget mysteries in the muggle world," Burbage began eerily. She yanked on a tab stuck to the board, rolling out a large painted image of the book. "Muggles simply cannot figure out what it says. In 1812, the name of the Polish bookseller who stumbled across the text was?"

The Muggle Studies teacher pointed to Isabelle, who was grateful she'd read the lesson's book that morning. "Wilfred Voynich."

"Indeed, Miss Williams. Wilfred Voynich discovered the manuscript in Italy. For days, he stared at this marvellous book; What did the symbols mean? Who wrote it?"

The book looked dusty and old, it's painting showed several cut outs of the different pages, some smudged with tea marks and stains, others with strange drawings of plants and horned snails, or several winged elf-creatures running around a carpet of green.

"Anyone take ancient runes? Pettigrew, tell me what it says here." She pointed to a collection of dots on the drawing, there was no correlation and Peter was left bright red, unable to read a thing:

"I... Uh," he stuttered. "It says... is it Egyptian? Or —Mayan? I don't... uhm."

James interrupted. "It says: I'm a wanker who can't write."

"Mr Potter!" Burbage shouted, her cheeks going red. She jabbed a piece of chalk at him. "You speak like that again and I'll hand you over to Dumbledore."

"Sorry, Professor. Sometimes profanity just slips out, I didn't mean it."

Isabelle rolled her eyes. He was such a kiss-arse, cuddling up to the professor's attention and when Burbage lost the frown, she smiled at Potter and forgave him.

"Right," Burbage said. "Peter, you were wrong, the text doesn't actually say anything. It was written by a great medival wizard known as 'Tubertus the Trickster'. He wrote the manuscript as a grand joke for Richard, the I of England. So, in all honesty, the writing is a load of babble which amounts to nothing in the end."

 _This lesson would amount to nothing in the end_ , Sirius wanted to say. He was bored senseless at the back of the classroom.

"However," Burbage raised a hand. "It is still an excellent case study to show how muggles value communication. For hundreds of years, they fought to decipher the jumble of letters and drawings and still have never found what the language translates to. But the muggle world have found other modes of enclosing the communication gap which wizards did thousands of years ago."

She reached down behind her desk and pulled out a 746 English Mustard telephone, it was plugged into a massive battery which Burbage had obviously struggled to figure out. Picking up the reciever, she held it out to the awed wizards and witches.

"Who would like a go at modern muggle devices? I have the communcation identity of a muggle company and we are to try and buy their products."

Sirius threw his hand up. He loved being in front of the class and swaggered up to stand next to the muggle device on the vacant desk. Burbage told him to pick up the object attached by a 'muggle wire' and place it to his ear, explaining that he would engage in a muggle communication technique and was to haggle to buy posies.

Slightly befuddled, Sirius lifted it to his head and put it to his ear a couple of times.

"It's making a noise," he commented. A couple of the Ravenclaws sniggered. "Is this a... rin-ger?"

Professor Burbage took a step forward, pointing to dark box attached to the phone. "Black, put the number in I told you. Do you see the pad? Write it in, then it'll start ringing. That's the dial tone."

"Ah," he nodded, punching the digits in dramatically. James snorted.

The class watched in curious silence, well the purebloods watched. Isabelle knew how to use a muggle phone, there were several in her house but she guessed that the Black family were accustomed to owls and the floo network. Sirius stared at nothing in confusion, the ringing hurt his ears slightly.

When a voice appeared on the other line, the class nearly gasped. Sirius pulled the phone away from his ear, shaken by how odd the concept was. Burbage ushered him to put it back.

"Uh..." He stuttered. "I'm phoning to—"

"Yes?" A man interrupted. "Yes, hello? Do you mind spoeaking up?"

Sirius tried to speak louder but the other line repeated himself. Coughing, Sirius swelled up his lungs and screamed: "HELLO? HELLO? CAN _YOU_ HEAR ME? IS — THIS — THE — SELLER?" Sirius shouted down the speaker.

He was yelling so loudly that Burbage was actually paying attention to the students for once. Her thick eyebrows were raised, a hand holding her chest.

The man on the other side of the line's voice crackled through, his voice was timid. "Y-yes? Who am I speaking to?"

"SIRIUS — BLACK!" Sirius bellowed back, as though he and the seller were on opposite end of the Quidditch Pitch. "I'M — INTERESTED — IN — THE — UH..."

"The posies, Black. Posies." Burbage said quickly.

Sirius frowned, his mouth open in slight confusion. He'd defeaned himself. "UH — THE — HOSIES."

On the other line, the man began stuttering. "Hoseries? Who is this? Is this a joke?"

"NO — SIR — I — ASSURE — YOU — I — WANT —"

"What number is this? Where are you calling from?" The seller raised his voice, clearly distressed. Sirius was trying to hide the smile on his lips. "I'll phone the police if you're not serious and this is some teenage hooligan-"

Pulling the phone from his ear, Black frowned at Burbage. "What is a po-lice?"

For the life of him, Sirius could never retain anything for more than five minutes. The muggle protection force was a case study they'd been over numerous times before. Burbage waved her wand in silent disappointment, enchanting the phone to slide from Black's hand and back to her desk.

James and Peter's quiet giggles erupted loudly, they both began roaring with laughter as if Sirius' incompetence was the greatest thing they'd seen all day. James' deep laugh with Peter's squeaky one made the class start laughing again. It was just the way those four ever did something. You couldn't help but find the happiness between them.

Isabelle's fundamental flaw for them was that James and Sirius alone ruined it for them.

Burbage fought to settle the class again, waving her hands around like a couple of fans to make them be quiet. She forced Sirius into a seat at the front, isolating him from his friends and forcing the class to quieten down. Burbage was petrified of the headmaster believing she was teaching the class to buy hoseries.

Sirius stopped laughing and left Peter and James to giggle to themselves at the back when the class moved onto the second chapter of their books. Remus was shaking his head and then put his head down to begin his work.

Isabelle slipped off into her own thoughts as the room stilled of laughs.

Putting the quill into her ink-bottle, she began scribbling down a couple of notes to help her NEWT revision. Burbage wasn't going to help them for the next forty minutes, she was nursing her forehead at her desk, big bushy hair now tired up in a tight bun.

Isabelle pushed her hair back over her shoulder, a couple of strands had messed up the title she'd wrote out in wet ink. Turning to the book, she boredly read:

 _Non-magic people (more commonly known as Muggles) were particularly afraid of magic in medieval times, but not very good at recognizing it. On the rare occasion that they did catch a real witch or wizard, burning had no effect whatsoever. The witch or wizard would perform a basic Flame-Freezing Charm and then pretend to shriek with pain while enjoying a gentle, tickling sensation. Indeed, Wendelin the Weird enjoyed being burned so much that she allowed herself to be caught no less than forty-seven times in various disguises._

 _Please answer the following question: What message does witch burning convey to the wizarding community? (10 marks)_

Isabelle frowned at the question. She thought about it for a long moment and then put her quill to parchment, writing:

 _It tells us that witch burning in the fourteenth century was completely pointless._

* * *

It was nearly midnight, and Isabelle was lying on her stomach in bed, the curtains pulled back, her quill between her teeth and a large leather-bound copy of the _Home Life and Social Habits of British Muggles_ perched at the end of the bed. The assignment was to write about what the wood and core of your wand symbolized to muggles.

 _How, on Earth, did wood have anything to do with the social habits of British Muggles?_ Isabelle scratched her head. _Burbage was so bloody vague._

Isabelle picked up her own wand, twirling it around her fingers. She'd gone through four wands to get to this one and it was worth all the trouble. A ten inch rosewood and Peruvian Vipertooth heartstring core wand.

 _"Ah," Ollivander said, eyes glittering with the sparks flying from the tip of the rosewood wand. "You are, no doubt, the owner of a gentle soul. The wand sees all. Rosewood wands pick owners who's aspiration is be kind. It is, of course, delicate and ten inches - the dragon heartstring should play well in protecting you in the future."_

She liked her wand, but it wasn't particularly powerful when it came to the dark arts.

Just as she looked back down at her parchment to begin writing about rosewood's spiritual properties the dormitory door burst open and Lily entered with Marlene, Alice and Amelia on her tail.

"Ancient Runes is the bane of my life," Lily groaned as she landed on her bed, a depressed sigh erupting from her. "Why did I choose it? What good is deciphering the symbol of a monkey going to do for me?"

"I should've dropped out," Marlene huffed. She walked over to Isabelle's drawer and took out a bag of muggle nail polish. When she turned around, her make up victim was nowhere in sight. "Millicent!" she shouted. "Stop flirting with portrait and get in here!"

There was a clatter of noise and odd rustling, then Millicent hurried into the dormitory with her books bundled in her arms like she'd dropped them.

"Ser Jaime is a nice man." She huffed. "I like a man who can run faster than I can."

"He can't run, he's a painting."

Millicent threw herself into the bean bag chair between Alice and Marlene's bed. She held her hand out for her nails to be painted, the girls preferred the muggle polish because it stayed one colour unlike typical wizarding cosmetics, it also didn't erupt into song whenever you washed your hands.

Lily began buffing her her own nails, she was frowning deeply and taking it out on her hands. Isabelle asked what was wrong, worried her friend would buff straight to the bone if she wasn't careful.

"Sev seems like he's been in a bad mood with me since before summer. I tried talking to him and he blanked me," Lily said, a saddened look took over her face. "I haven't done anything wrong."

"Lily, there's only one type of man," Millicent explained smartly. "The miserable kind."

"Yes, Severus does seem like the latter, doesn't he? He's always swooping around like an overgrown bat," Isabelle commented, looking up from her muggle studies paper.

"I wish you would call him that to his face, Isabelle." Amelia said idly. "Maybe it would snap him out of his senses so he'd start acting like the world isn't on the edge of it's impending doom."

"Maybe it is," Millicent shot back. "Maybe Severus knows something we don't and he's deceiving us. I've been taught that that's the best thing a man can do in this world."

"Don't be stupid," Isabelle said, rolling her eyes. "You can't get all your wisdom from an actress who is no longer alive."

Amelia started laughing at Millie, whose eyes went large. "Maybe it's because it's one of the things that make me happy in life. Can't you stand up for the things which you have? Alistair? Before, you used to blend in and now you've blossomed with him. No offense, of course."

"No offense?" Isabelle repeated, her feelings hurt a little. "You just told me that I was invisible when I went out with Ali and I'm not meant to take offense?"

Marlene rolled back, facing Isabelle. "To be honest, I'm surprised that, that isn't your inspiration to be all over him. It would make you stand out more."

"And look like a slag?" Isabelle laughed, closing her muggle studies book. "You told me I was disgusting yesterday!"

"Well, you were snogging him in the common room. I saw his tongue." Marlene said, repulsed.

"You're all so awful." Isabelle sneered, throwing her book to the floor. It hit a tall pile of old notes from third year and knocked them over. Isabelle groaned loudly, making Lily burst out laughing.

"Oh, you do have the worst luck in the world."

"Only because you all bully me."

Amelia snorted. "We make fun of Lily, too. Except it's usually about James being completely obsessed with her."

Lily put her hand to her forehead. It seemed that Potter was everywhere this year; in every lesson, every conversation. If she ever had a dream about him then she'd decided she would definitely brew a draught of living death and knock back the entire cauldron.

"It's better than Black being obsessed with you. He'd be such a menace."

"I can't stand him - he's so... so narcissistic."

"I shan't bring myself to lie," Millicent interrupted Isabelle. "Sirius Black is the Gus Esdmund to my Lorelei." Isabelle stared at her in disbelief. Had this girl forgotten the years of torment he'd given her? All the times he'd said that she was the ugliest thing he'd ever seen? Millicent seemed to have forgotten the prank he and James played on her in fourth year - bewitching the trolls in the dungeons to chase her round the castle.

Isabelle watched Millicent sigh, "it astounds even me he was snogging Zelpha after our runes lesson."

"I can't say I agree with you on the first two points," Isabelle said icily. She hated Zelpha, a Gryffindor who was obsessed with the fact her grandmother was Zelda Fitzgerald, the great socialist and the 'first American Flapper Girl'. "They will be a great couple. He's acts like a pig and she is one."

"You moan about him a lot. In fact, you must think about him a lot and we know he's got a soft spot for specifics." Marlene smirked. "He likes the girls with darker hair than him."

"My hair is brown."

"It's black, you blind cow." Marlene groaned. She stopped filing Millicent's nails and gave her a look. "You know, sometimes I wish you were conceited, then you'd spend enough time looking in the mirror and actually know what you look like."

Grabbing a strand of hair, Isabelle frowned and stared at it. She swore it was dark brown but upon actually looking, she found her loud friend to be right. Throwing the piece back over her shoulder, she said. "That doesn't mean I'd ever go for Black. I have Alistair."

"Didn't you say last year that you've never said I love you back to Ali? How's that working out?"

"I... uh. Look, that's not fair. Come on," Isabelle asked as the girls all started cackling, shouting their innuendos at her. She shoved her face into the pillow. _I do not sound like that._

"So you could go for Black."

Millicent threw her hand out of Marlene's grip, nearly splattering nail polish up the wall. "Yes!" She cried. "It would be so romantic!"

"How would it be romantic? He wouldn't be able to hold a conversation about anything intellectual like Ali can. He's-"

"No, no," Lily interrupted, she was red in the face was giggling. "You'd be blown away by how amazing he is at everything that _doesn't_ involve talking."

"Lily! You hate him as much as I do." Isabelle growled, she threw herself back into the duvet.

"If anything, you'll be the one talking more," Marlene snorted. She made a gasping noise and cried: "Oh, Sirius, show me what to do with that fake wand!" The others began screaming with laughter.

"Want some extra credit? I'll be your muggle to study!"

"Oh, let me have a go on your broomstick! I promise, I won't fall!"

"Oh Sirius, demonstrate how you'd like to pound that bludger!"

"You four are ridiculous," Isabelle mumbled, as she tried to keep all the images from playing through her head and even worse as she began trying her hardest not to laugh with them.

"Ooh, Black! I don't remember them teaching _that_ in Transfiguration!"

* * *

 _ **References Made in the Chapter:**_

\- The thing about Sirius' eyes being like wasp stings is a reference to the fairy queen in Lynne Reid-Banks' novel _The Fairy Rebel._

 _\- The Voynich Manuscript_ is a codex hand-written with an unknown alphabet. No one has managed to decipher what it says.

\- The prank between the marauders taking Zachary's badge is from the prank Fred and George pull on Percy - I found it so funny in the book and just couldn't not put it in!

\- Zelda Fitzgerald was F. Scott Fitzgerald's wife and known for being the first flapper girl in America! I just love Fitzgerald's works and the truth of their marriage. Referring to her is a dedication to her memory.

\- 'Bean Bag Chairs' were an inexpensive luxury during the 60s and 70s. Usually made out of leather and created by Italian designers like Gatti, Teodora and Paolini!

\- Ser Jaime is a reference to Jaime Lannister from George R R Martin's _a Song of Ice and Fire,_ a typically dashing member of Aerys II Targaryen's kingsguard and a flirt.

\- "I like a man who can run faster than I can" - Gentlemen Prefer Blondes movie.

* * *

 _ **Replies:**_

 _sheswritingmore \- _ thank you for commenting and pointing out my mistake! It's all fixed now:)


	4. Hiraeth

_Author's Note: Thank you my lovelies for the reviews and support! Another chapter 24 hours later and my hands hurt! PLEASE REVIEW, TELL ME EVERYTHING. EVEN COMMENT WHY YOU LOVE THE HARRY POTTER UNIVERSE! I do not mind! All my love._

 _Disclaimer: all place, characters and ideas belong to J.K Rowling. I own nothing except for Isabelle._

* * *

 _Chapter Four: Hiraeth_

* * *

By Sunday morning, Isabelle was beginning to realise that her weekend was not for blissful relaxation. And as such, it was turning out to be a complete disaster.

Not only did McGonagall inform them that they had to begin hardcore exam revision, but the lessons were becoming more demanding than ever before. Isabelle barely understood what the Professor was saying during her Transfiguration lessons; asking once or twice for help.

Nonverbal spells were also expected, not only in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Charms and McGonagall's subject. Isabelle was repetitively looking over at Lily and Amelia for help during her final lesson on Friday. The evening wasn't full of laughter or cheer, like it used to be. Her fellow sixth years were going red in the face, nearly purple, straining to try and turn a toad into a teacup without uttering a word. Isabelle was dreading Herbology on Monday and apprehensive for Potions.

On top of the enormous workload, McGonagall had informed them that homework would begin heavily from now on. She set a two-meter essay on how a wizard under pressure can't manipulate and ruin a non-verbal spell. All Saturday, Marlene, Lily and Amelia had been panicking in front of the Gryffindor fire to try and remember everything.

Isabelle was also worried for Hagrid. She hadn't visited again and the others hadn't seen him at all, except for afar at dinner.

"We've got to go and explain," said Lily, looking up at Hagrid's huge empty chair at the staff table on Sunday, at breakfast.

"I've got Quidditch tryouts this morning!" said Amelia, she was in Quidditch robes, her cheeks the same colour as the Gryffindor emblem. The girl felt as if her heart could beat out her chest. "And we're supposed to be practicing that Aguamenti Charm from Flitwick. Anyway, explain what? How are we meant to tell him our exams are more important than his company?"

"Why don't we see him afterward?" Isabelle asked but Amelia began hyperventilating slightly, she started fanning her warm face.

"I'm so nervous. There hasn't been a female chaser in seven years. I know I'm fast but... how fast is fast enough?" She threw her head down, nearly splattering her cereal everywhere. She rested her head her shaking hands and stared down at the bland bowl of cardboard pieces mixed with almond milk.

"Well, that's not entirely true," Isabelle replied. "We can go down after seven, we don't need to revise all the time, not until exam time."

"I have to revise Potions tonight," Marlene whined. "I've completely forgotten all the uses of wolfsbane and that's what our first topic is on. I really need to focus on my NEWT and Hagrid is not the way to do that. He's got Dargis and those pumpkins outside."

"I hate not talking to Hagrid," said Lily, looking upset.

"We'll go down after Quidditch," Isabelle assured her. She was missing Hagrid's kind words because they were empty of prejudice and pure blood mania, he understood everything Isabelle needed to be reassured with."I'm not sure what time it'll finish, apparently dozens are applying for Gryffindor team."

"Dozens?" Amelia gulped. She went sickly pale, the thought making her feel sick. "And there's only three places available."

Putting a gentle hand on her shoulder, Isabelle gave a brave smile. "And one to land an apprenticeship with the Harpies. You'll do great and we'll all be there cheering you on. Dozens of them are lame prats compared to the best Quidditch player in the school."

Lily grinned. "You'll smash it, _querido_."

They knew Amelia always felt better if you spoke to her like her mother spoke to her; kindly and with reassurance. The auburn haired girl smiled at Lily, but still felt like she was going to vomit.

* * *

In the common room, two Quidditch-clad Gryffindors were looking at their outfits with heavy chests, weighed down with inevitable tiredness.

"We've _got_ to, Prongs." Sirius clapped his friend on the shoulder, assuming a brave expression. "Just do it, alright? How bad can it be?"

James frowned. "I can't, Padfoot. They can't really make us, can they?"

"No," Sirius shook his head. "But if we don't, you realize that we won't have a Quidditch team."

"A tragedy, I'm sure. Four isn't that bad, Alois can fill in for all the chasers and we can go to the library to read or study."

"We are not going to watch Evans study, Prongs." Sirius deadpanned. His arms were full of Quidditch gear, spares for the second years who bought a thin shirt against the freezing September morning mist. James unraveled the parchment he'd been clutching. "Besides, Williams said Evans would be in watching."

"Watching?"

"Well, not watching you... but she'll be there."

James sighed again. "Yeah. Why are tryouts so terrible?"

"I don't know mate, but we have to do it."

"But I don't want to."

Sirius led the way out of their room, hurrying down the steps quickly. It was quiet, a Sunday, which only made the idea of tryouts even less appealing. Two-thirds of Gryffindor weren't out of bed yet which meant it was peaceful and quiet against the roar of the fire.

James sighed. Pulling a tack off the Gryffindor Common Room notice board, the Quidditch Seeker placed a slip of parchment squarely in the center of the board and pushed the tack through the top. It was usually Remus' job but he had hobbled over to medical bay for an anti-headache ointment that morning. Potter looked up at the parchment, his friend's scribbled handwriting plastered in thick ink:

 _ **GRYFFINDOR TRYOUTS**_

 _ **2ND-7TH YEARS ONLY**_

 _ **TODAY 9 A.M.**_

"How many first-year Hufflepuffs do you reckon will show up?" Sirius wondered.

"Oh, at least half of them," dropped James. "C'mon. Let's get to breakfast. Looking at this just makes me want to knock _myself_ off a broom."

Sirius left the Common Room with him, but said as they started down the corridor: "I can't have breakfast this morning with you, Dumbledore wants to see me."

"Really? What about?"

"I don't know. Apparently, there's a confidential letter from my mother, so I assume I've been put up for adoption. Or at least, I hope."

James looked down, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek. "You always have the worst summers, mate." There was a heartbeat of silence then he looked back up. "But other than that, nothing about behavior?"

Sirius' lip turned up on the right, the only answer to just how rough the break away from Hogwarts had been. "Who knows?" He said lightly. "Maybe he found out those dungbombs were us and not Mulciber like everyone thought."

James laughed. "Speaking of, I saw the git down that corridor walking to the hall." They both looked down the deserted walkway, annoyance poking them both. The Slytherin seeker was a pointy-eared, first-class bint.

"I can already hear his girlfriend screeching."

James scoffed, Agatha Emericson was a pure-blood Slytherin who was convinced her great grandfather was Emeric the Evil. She had a hooked nose that made you think she was constantly smelling something rancid and a pair of beady eyes that seemed to be in everyone's business. Both boys thought they'd never seen a girl so horrendously ugly, her personality was the only thing worse to encounter.

With his mood lifted by his friend, but the inevitably Quidditch practice that loomed overhead. James offered a half-hearted smile as they reached the oak doors to the hall. "This is where I leave you."

"Yeah mate, have a good breakfast. Don't hit anyone," Sirius lightly hit his friend's shoulder, a grin on his face.

They parted ways and Sirius took a slow stroll to Dumbledore's office, he hadn't said anything because internally his heart was thundering away. He dreaded opening the letter from Walburga, because that meant bad news.

It could've been about the attacks several days ago, but he couldn't imagine why his mother would so openly admit in the headmaster that their pure-blood mania was excelled beyond the normal distaste towards muggle-borns.

The slow walk wasn't slow enough, Sirius stood before the Gargoyle and stared up. He began clicking his finger nervously at his side. He didn't know the password. Mrs. Norris slithered out from behind a tapestry, turning to look up at him with lamplike eyes.

"Might surprise you but I'm meant to be here. Now, piss off," Sirius hissed which caused Mrs. Norris to slunk away back to her hiding spot.

Sirius tried to remember what the note had said. Remus' owl had flown through the window to deliver it.

 _"All the best wishes. P.s my favourite puddings are french fancies!"_

"French Fancy," said Sirius.

The gargoyle sprang to life and leaped aside: revealing a splitting wall that made way for a spiral staircase. He stepped onto the moving stairs, listening the wall close with a thud.

It stopped outside a large oak door, furnished with a brass knocker in the shape of a griffin. Going to pull on it, his hand missed and grabbed mid-air; the door was already opening.

"Good morning, Mr Black!" Professor Dumbledore's voice called from deep within his office.

The room was bathed with dull September skies, it's grey appearance created a dull shine on the silver instruments on the shelves and tables. Sirius tried to shake off the sickness in his stomach.

Looking up, Sirius' eyes landed on Dumbledore. He was sat at his high-backed chair: leaning forward over a stack of parchment. In a deep purple set of robes, embroidered with gold stars.

"Hello, Sirius," Dumbledore smiled again. "Are you settling well into your new school year?"

Sirius went to nod and then asked what was so important about his mother's letter that he had to be called to the office but then his eyes landed on a tall figure sat next to Dumbledore's desk.

The boy was in fourth year, as tall as Sirius and with thick curly hair that was a shade lighter. His black eyes were watching him silently, like he was calculating what would happen.

Sirius gave Regulus a cold glare. "What are you doing here?"

"Mother knows you're taking Muggle Studies, she told me she was going to send you a letter but I guessed it would be a howler. I know how much you love those, so I had Dumbledore intercept it so save you the embarrassment at breakfast today. You don't have to thank me."

"Wasn't planning on it," he hissed.

"You should, it's caused an uproar, Sirius. It's going to get blown out of proportion—"

"Why do you care?" Sirius snarled at his brother.

 _Why did he care?_ Regulus asked himself, he stopped moving forward and recoiled like Sirius was burnt him.

"I'm the only person in that house that knows you."

"You don't know me. You only know our family name, the Black name. You're just as sick as the rest of them," Sirius spat. "I heard you talking with our father about... about You-Know-Who."

Regulus glanced at Dumbledore, who did not meet his eye but watched Sirius struggle to control himself.

"Mr Black, if you please," he said softly, holding up a vicious red envelope. "I do believe this is yours."

Storming up to the desk, Sirius ripped the letter from the headmaster's grip and nearly faltered in opening it. He slid a finger under the dried red wax and felt the paper begin to grow warm.

Smoke sizzled from the card, smelling of burnt lavender and the ointment his mother used on her wrinkled skin.

It then burst open, scaring Sirius so he tripped and went crashing down the stone steps. He landed on his back with a painful groan.

"Sirius." Regulus went to help his brother but his mother's shrill voice startled him. Both brothers stared at the red card as it flew towards Sirius.

"SIRIUS ORION BLACK, HOW DARE YOU DECEIVE ME!" Walburga screamed. "HOW DARE YOU DEFY THE ORDER AND BELIEFS OF THIS FAMILY — TAKING A MUGGLES STUDIES CLASS AND THINKING THAT I WAS FOOLISH ENOUGH TO NEVER FIND OUT." Sirius felt his stomach drop, like a bomb of self-hate and regret. He stared breathing heavily, watching with wide eyes.

"THE DISHONOR YOU PUT ON THIS NAME, THE DISHONOR YOU PUT ON YOURSELF —"

"IT'S APPALLING. YOU HAVE ALWAYS BEEN SO DISGUSTINGLY MENDACIOUS AND YOUR TIME IS RUNNING OUT, SIRIUS ORION." The voice was relentless, it's tone hit the drum of your ear and Sirius wanted nothing more than to go deaf and not listen to anything ever again. "YOU WILL REMOVE THE SUBJECT, AND YOURSELF FROM PARTAKING IN ANYTHING DO TO WITH THIS DISGUSTING WAY OF LIFE.

OUR WAY IS THE OLD WAY, OUR WAY IS THE RIGHT WAY. YOU WILL RETURN HOME AT THE END OF TERM AND YOUR FATHER SHALL ENJOY ENFORCING THE RULES OF THE BLACK FAMILY UPON YOUR MUGGLE-SATURATED AMOUR PROPRE."

The howler let out a loud screech and collapsed on the floor. In the corner of the paper was the Black family crest; special howler paper that didn't burn because the Black way is the best way; they meant what they said.

Silence settled inside Dumbledore's Office. It was a deep, heavy silence full of ominosity Sirius felt it sitting on his chest as he sat up on the palms of his hands, staring at the spot where his Mother's voice was once screaming at him.

Eyes falling down to the collapsed paper, he blinked away the hot tears. Dumbledore could not see him cry and neither could his brother. He hated when his mother shouted and he despised it when she screamed.

Regulus open and closed his mouth, trying to think of the right thing to say. It was his fault their mother found out about Muggle Studies, he'd left Sirius' results letter on his pillow at home after reading it. Something in his throat forced him choke on his words and all he did was watch his older brother struggle to his knees and then to his feet.

Professor Dumbledore had moved foreword in his seat and had his hands clasped together loosely. He looked down at Sirius through his spectacles as if the boy was a question.

Black's back ached from the fall down the stone steps, the muscles cried out when he stretched down to pick up the letter. Holding it out in his hand, his let it sit there before crushing the paper into a fist.

Sirius held it so tightly that his hand began to hurt. The burning of his bitten nails digging into his palm created a static noise in his ears; he wanted it to hurt.

"Mr Black," Dumbledore repeated. "If you will, please stop trying to turn your letter to dust. I can burn it in my fireplace, would that make you happy?"

He wasn't in the mood for jokes, he wasn't in the mood for anything. However, he still reluctantly hobbled back up the stairs and put it in front of Dumbledore with a sour face.

"I'm not dropping Muggle Studies," Sirius said. "It's just a lesson, I don't care."

"I do not agree with the reasoning but if it would make you happy to avoid the confrontation, then I can arrange extra potions, perhaps?"

"No. Don't."

Regulus stood up, his dark eyes on his brother glaringly. "You need to drop it, Sirius. Mother won't stop."

"Good. I don't care if she doesn't, does she think I'll become a muggle if I learn about them?"

"That's exactly what she thinks." Regulus said icily. "She's not well, we know that, but you need to listen to her. Muggles are dangerous for us."

"I'm not talking to you about something that's none of your damn business. I won't reply, I'm not going to bring it up. She can suffer for all I care."

"Sirius —"

"No! Regulus, I'm done here and so are you. Write back to _Mummy_ and tell she's insane, tell her the whole lot of you deserve to choke."

Dumbledore watched the exchange between the two brothers, not flinching when they raised for voices or making a move to stop Sirius when he stepped towards the door. His expression was calm and detached.

"Sirius," Dumbledore said gently. "Please do not take it out on Regulus. I do believe there is a lot going unsaid here—"

"Professor," Sirius' voice came sharply, he met the twinkling eyes with bitter ones. "I'm sorry but I've said everything and I think I've had enough embarrassment for one day." His eyes met his brother's coldly. "Do not try and talk to me about this, Reg. Or I'll curse you."

He stormed out of the office without listening to Regulus try and call him back. The moving steps were going too slow, the statue moved as if it had all the time in world.

Sirius burst through the half-opened wall and ignored the Gargoyle shouting: "You're welcome! Ignorance is bliss!"

There was raging, hot fury coursing through him. Never had he opened a howler in front of the headmaster, there had been ones before but always with his friends and now teachers would know that belonged to a name who were the foulest family in the wizarding community.

His mother's voice, her screams and shouts. It all filled up Sirius' head, he couldn't get away from it. And the screech, that screech at the end was her when she lost control.

Throwing a hand out, he slammed a fist against the wall and the skin split open. _"FUCK!"_ He shouted.

And now the rest of his day would be Quidditch practice, and Sirius just wanted to throw himself back into bed.

* * *

James Potter was exhausted, annoyed and craving his bed that morning. He ducked around a corner of the castle and withdrew his cigarettes, entirely unsure of what the rules were in regard to it.

In fact, he knew that it wasn't something the school condoned. James just didn't want to be the one who influenced any first years to copy him. Remus would've joined him today except he had gone to the Quidditch Pitch early to make sure only Gryffindors had turned up.

As the Quidditch Seeker, James was thankful that he didn't need to be there to welcome the newbies. He lifted his head up and exhaled, watching grey smoke into blur into the pale morning air. All he could think of was how much he didn't like smoking alone.

"I half expected you to go back to bed," remarked a voice that made James nearly jump. Sirius appeared with a smirk.

"Believe me, I'm in the right state to put myself in a coma and sleep the rest of the year off." Replied James, offering Sirius a cigarette.

He took it from James' outstretched fingers.

"How did the meeting go? With Dumbledore?"

Sirius inhaled the nicotine, relishing the sour taste and heavy lining of warmth it gave his throat. Leaning against the wall, he slipped his other hand into the pocket of his Quidditch trousers.

Both boys were geared up in their house robes for tryouts, about to commence. In addition to the black trousers (with a red and gold stripe against the outside of the leg); was their scarlet and gold robes; long-sleeved undershirts; and knee pads, elbow pads, gloves, and boots all of the same brown leather. It still let the chilly Autumn wind in.

Sirius exhaled. "He had a letter from home." he laughed. "Well, _that house._ It was a howler he'd got a hold of so I didn't embarrass myself at breakfast. Regulus was there, too. She found out I take Muggle Studies, bloody _muggle studies_." James didn't say anything, only watching Sirius as he fought to keep himself relaxed. "I don't know what was worse, the fact I couldn't hide that I'm a coward when Walburga screams at me or having Dumbledore listen to the entire thing and not say a word."

As it was, James was grateful for his cigarette.

"You always have a place at mine, Sirius. Just leave."

For a while, they were quiet. No conversation was necessary for each to know what the other was thinking, when it came to the tryouts. They usually went terribly. Last year, fifteen students had flown and proved inadequate, especially when half smashed against the goal posts.

If that happened this year, Sirius didn't know what he'd do with himself. Loving the game and hating the practice were two different things.

"What did your brother say about the howler?" James asked in the silence.

"He told me I should take our mother's advice and drop the subject. I don't think he cared about the reputation, just trying to avoid a domestic over Christmas break."

"Stay at mine. Don't go there."

Sirius exhaled quickly, letting all the nicotine out in one exasperated blow. "I might have to take you up on that offer."

There was a unified chatter around the side of the castle. Peering round, James watched a group of girls laughing their way down to the Quidditch Pitch. The one he saw first was the girl with bright red hair that reached down to her waist.

James didn't feel like he had it in him to call out Evans' name. She'd just throw him her middle finger again, or ignore him entirely.

She always did that and no matter how hard James thought, he couldn't figure out what he was doing wrong. Earlier, Remus was walking beside Greta Catchlove with several brooms in his arms as well as her books, a shy smile on his face. Potter would give anything to be a stumbling mess in front of Lily as long as he could have a five minute conversation that didn't involve: 'leave me alone,' or 'how many time do I have to say, I can't stand the sight of you'.

"Come on." James threw his cigarette down and stomped his boot on it. This time, he didn't hurry Sirius because he couldn't stand the idea of Lily ignoring him again.

* * *

Isabelle blew into her gloved hands, eyes on the field. It was absolutely freezing, the temperature was colder than normal with an air so thick the sun's warmth was not destined to hit all day. Up in the Quidditch stands, the wind hit her cheeks like a bite.

Beside her, Marlene shivered in her red, gold embroiled shawl. Greta Catchlove had also joined their group, she had been sat on her own before and was occupied with stroking Eris, immersed in his elegance.

Isabelle rolled her eyes at him, he loved attention far too much. But that factor was also a blessing. If you were kind, Eris knew that and it meant Isabelle knew the right sort of friends and the wrong sort.

"He's lovely," she said in a wispy voice. "He's very tame, did you have to train him?"

"No, he was really scared when I got him. Sort of just grew as I did when I came to Hogwarts."

Lily cooed Eris. "I'm in love with him, Merlin. I wish I had a bobcat instead of an owl. And she doesn't like the owlery here so she stays at home - might as well not have one at all."

"You can use my rat," Greta said vaguely, her eyes were always glossy like she was thinking of something else far away. "Rats are excellent message carriers."

"Thanks Gretes. Next time I'm sending a box of pumpkin pasties, I'll let you know."

Isabelle covered her mouth so Greta didn't hear the snort she choked on.

The lanky arm of Alistair then caught her attention. He hooked it around her shoulders as the stands began to get busier. Seat were filling up quickly, people were using Quidditch as an excuse to not revise and they'd ditched their books for binoculars. It was so difficult to see what was happening from where Isabelle was sat.

On the pitch, there were two groups; a smaller one, with four Gryffindor players (Remus, James, Sirius and Alois) and a larger one. Isabelle strained to see Amelia's tiny figure stood a little off from the rest of them.

Peter Pettigrew crept in front of Isabelle's line of vision. He was timidly waving. "Can I sit with you?"

Alistair hit the seat beside him, a large grin on his face. "'Course, Pettigrew."

He took the empty spot with a pleased smile. Peter was so scared of being rejected, it made Isabelle want to be his friend even more. Leaning forward, she looked at the timid Gryffindor.

"Have you ever tried playing Quidditch, Peter?"

He shook his head, looking down at his friends. "Oh, no. Well, I tried out with them but I kept falling off. I'm not strong enough to hold onto the broom." He caught Isabelle's pitiful expression. "N-not that, that makes me upset. I prefer being in the stands, I like cheering."

"That's good. You can always stand with us at the next game. I don't usually go, but if you want Lily and I will make an appearance."

She ignored Alistair's huff. Ever since they'd started dating, Isabelle always wriggled out of watching the games because she found they were dreadfully boring.

"That would be great, Is." Peter nodded.

There was a loud whistle. Remus and the others were kicking off the ground and flying up into the middle of the pitch.

Isabelle recognized several lower year Gryffindors: Abernathy, Kole and Paxton Drew as well as Oakes and Yarborough. The others were students she'd never seen before.

Sirius Black was holding the quaffle and the bludger. It was amazing how he could balance on the broom without falling off. Throwing the balls up in the air, he shouted something and a couple of the tryouts shot off to grab the quaffle.

He was in the goal post, throwing an arm around, barking orders to the players. Remus looked on at his potential team members, he was best at studying, exceptionally good at judging whether someone was a good flyer. The couple dozens Gryffindors who attempted to score, failed and miserably flew to the back of the group. Isabelle watched, her eyes the size of saucers when it came to Amelia.

The Drew twins had gone before and left the stands whispering excitedly. Sirius couldn't catch the quaffle they'd lobbed at him, nearly knocking the Gryffindor keeper from his broom.

From the stands, you couldn't tell that Amelia was sweating her Quidditch clothes off, her clothes were soaked. She watched Remus fling the quaffle into the air and a sudden adrenaline kicked in. Flying across the field, Amelia dove past the Alois. Oakes screamed as she soared past and ripped the quaffle from it's descent. Her body became a blur of red and gold, the ringing of proud screams created a surge of pride.

Amelia threw the quaffle at the top goal post, missing Sirius' outstretched fingers by miles.

The Gryffindors in the stands shot up and started screaming with pride, cheering her name was mainly Lily and Marlene. Isabelle waved her arms around like a lunatic, brandishing a huge lion-crested scarf with happiness. "WOO!" Isabelle clapped with a smile. "YOU DID IT! I'M SO PROUD!"

"WELL DONE, AMELIA!" Lily shouted, hooking an arm around Isabelle's shoulder. "She's doing so well!" She said gleefully.

"Come on, Is. It's just tryouts." Alistair laughed, pulling her back into the seat. She slipped out of Lily's grip.

Slightly out of breath, she looked at him. "Yeah, but that's my best friend. And she's going to make the team!"

Alistair watched Marlene and Lily applauding still. "You never cheered like that for me."

"We weren't dating during your tryouts."

"But didn't you think I was incredibly attractive? My amazing hair and personality must have caught you attention early on."

"When I was thirteen, the last thing I was thinking of was boys." Isabelle giggled, she could barely remember what he looked like back then. Ali smiled down at her and asked. "Want to go back to the castle?"

She rolled her eyes and gave him a shove. "Stop being such a bore."

"Don't be daft," Alistair scoffed. "I really only came here to sit with you and check out this years' competition. Amos wants us to be ready, I'm like an unspeakable."

Isabelle shook her head, laughing. "You take Quidditch too seriously. Is it so hard to just sit here and not think of how you would've caught the balls before they went into the goal?"

"The balls? The goal?" He began laughing. "That's so muggle. They're called goal posts because they're hooped, not a rectangle on the floor of some muddy field."

"Muggle games aren't that bad, you know. My father likes to play golf and chase my mother around the field with the clubs."

Ali took her hand and didn't say anything, he tangled in his fingers between hers and offered a smile.

"When are Hufflepuff tryouts?" Isabelle asked.

"Next Saturday, but we have everyone on the team we need."

"Didn't you say last year that Xavier was completely useless?" Isabelle grinned. He was the reason Hufflepuff nearly lost the Cup, Alistair was so furious that he could barely speak to anyone. "You got stroppy with him."

"Stroppy?" He repeated, raising an eyebrow. "Quidditch means a lot to me, but we don't want any one ruining our chances. Xavier knows not to mess up again."

Isabelle didn't want to know whether the Hufflepuff team had threatened their chaser, so she didn't ask. Turning back to the pitch, she watched earnestly as the quaffles chased the others.

One hit the boy named Abernathy hard in the shoulder and he went spiralling down to the ground in a heap. Sirius put his fingers to his mouth and whistled.

"Clean that up!" He shouted to Abernathy's third year friends, who hurried onto the pitch and helped him limp away.

"Oh, dear." Lily said softly. "Do you that was painful?"

"Dunno, but I hope it really hurt." Marlene said. She hated Abernathy because he once used her as a human shield when Peeves went on a slime-throwing rampage.

At the far side of the field was Alois and Remus, hovering next to each other in deep debate. They had picked three-quarters of the tryouts to leave the stadium. Isabelle couldn't understand why some would compete if they'd never flown before, the number of candidates she'd watched struggle to keep their brooms up was laughable.

Amelia was still doing exceptionally well for herself, she hadn't missed a goal and kept dodging the bludgers.

Kole and Paxton Drew were thrown bats and knocked them together, getting to work as if this was a normal day. They were in their fourth year and rumored to be able to talk telepathically. It wouldn't be a surprise, they spiraled through the air in a hypnotizing dance; looping and gliding under each other. Isabelle watched their symmetrical white-blond hair fly off around the field, whacking the bludgers hard. Some of the onlookers swooned.

Admittedly, Amelia wasn't that good at being a beater. She couldn't swing her arm far enough backwards to get a good hit and struggled on her own. If it weren't for her talent to dodge, she would've been pummeled by the bludgers.

"She was so nervous as well." Isabelle told Ali, she fought to keep him interested. "Gryffindor haven't had a female player in years." Isabelle threw a worried glance back to Ali then focused back on the players zooming past. "Hufflepuff haven't either, right?"

"Well, that's because we don't need one," he replied, looking away from James Potter practicing to catch the snitch over and over again. "Our team is amazing."

"Have any girls been to a tryout?"

"No, because girls don't particularly like Quidditch."

When Oakes fought to control his broom, Isabelle knew he wasn't going to make the team. He's slipped twice off the equipment and dangled there until he could clamber back up. However, when Amelia flew past again with a big smile, Isabelle went back to the ill-informed Hufflepuff.

"Clearly girls like Quidditch. Times are changing now. You do know Quidditch was created by a girl in the 11th century?

"Yeah, but Gertie Keddle didn't play the game."

"Yes, she did, you spoon. She used a cabbage as the first Quaffle with her friend Gwenog in Manchester. Aren't you meant to be a Quidditch genius?" Isabelle smiled widely. Ali tightened his grip on her hand and shook his head.

"Fine, fine. You're right as per usual, but we didn't need a girl to win last year."

Isabelle didn't want to argue with him anymore, once Alistair had an idea, he didn't let it go. She knew she would have to listen to him complaining about it later as well.

"Oh, look! Isabelle, there's Amelia! She's at the front of the group."

They watched and rooted for her until lunch, where most of the stand occupants left for food. On the way back to the castle, Isabelle fought of Alistair's claw-like hands, pleading that they went to the dormitories for the rest of the afternoon. He reluctantly accepted her decline and planted several wet kisses over her cheeks, running off to occupy his time elsewhere. Probably telling Amos about the Drew brothers or Johnson.

When the Gryffindors returned to the stadium, Peter was adorning a large jumper and gloves so he wouldn't shiver as much as he did that morning. Lily and Isabelle were holding some sandwiches and glass bottles of water for Amelia after the tryouts.

"She'll be so tired later," Lily sighed as they sat back down. Isabelle nodded, focusing on the pitch once again. On her lap, Eris was chewing a chicken slice, amber eyes enlarged as he watched the players zoom around. She ran a hand through his soft cheeks and cooed him.

In fact, Eris was more interested in Quidditch than any other creature she'd known. Bobcats were familiar to the workings of magic; the wrestling self-willed wayward of it all was also wrapped up in that small, furry bundle that... when in a good mood would sit on your knee and purr. Magic never sat on anyone's knee and purred.

* * *

The sun was setting behind the ashy clouds when James finally let out an exasperated groan.

"Remus," he said, looking out across the Quidditch pitch. There was a sudden stab in his left temple and his rubbed it harshly. "It's six o'clock. Six o'clock at night, and we've been here nine hours. I can't fucking believe this."

The rest of the Gryffindors exchanged worn out shrugs, stood in a semi-circle around Black, Lupin, Potter and Alois. They were all sweaty, panting a little as they clutched the balls, bats and brooms.

"We took a ten minute break," Sirius pointed out lightly.

"Eight hours and fifty minutes, then," James corrected himself. "Remind me to kill you in your sleep tonight, Black."

"Please. You'd wake up and start crying if I was actually gone."

James scoffed as Remus ushered the tryouts to take a seat. Despite the chill, everyone was still boiling. Potter yanked off his gloves and threw them into a box of spare equipment, catching sight of red hair in the stands. Evans had been there all day, battling the chill just to watch Amelia Johnson.

"You noticed she's still up there?" Sirius' voice appeared. "She's been there as long as we've been down here."

"Yeah. She's here for Johnson, though."

Sirius looked back at the sixth year Gryffindor, she was waving up at her friends, who were waving back frantically. The girl had been so timid at the start of the day, but was blooming with pride now. He looked at Remus and Alois, both in deep debate about the tryouts.

Sirius had already figured out who should be on their team. It had been a long day but tryouts had gone better than his cigarette-induced morning had dreaded. "Johnson for chaser, Moony," he called out.

"Johnson?" James questioned. "Hm. What does Alois think? They have to be a team, and he's got social anxiety."

"No, he doesn't. Paxton has anxiety, look at him." Sirius pointed to the shorter twin. Sure enough, he was chewing his lip nervously and watching the lower years. "Poor git."

"They are kind of off-putting though, aren't they? That Yarbrough made me nervous with how he flew through the hoops..."

Remus blew a whistle. "Padfoot! Prongs, come here!"

They looked up to see Remus had taken a walk straight out to the middle of the pitch, away from the newbies' earnest stares. The two boys caught up with him quickly.

"Right," Remus said, looking around the stadium. He turned around, taking in the entire scale of the pitch; the long stands that surrounded him, the tall sky and it's impossibilities, the grass under his feet and posts painted gold. All the things that would help him win. "I want the Drew twins as beaters. I can see them working really well together under pressure."

Sirius scoffed. "Paxton can't work under pressure, he's over there shaking like a scared little boy."

"He does when his brother is around. The way they flew today was brilliant teamwork, maybe it's not apart they're good, but together they're great." Sirius looked at Alois for a long moment, thinking about how he envisioned the team. The chaser was right.

"I want Johnson on the team. She needs to be." Sirius said, looking back at the bustle of people waiting for an answer. "She's passionate about Quidditch. Yes, she can't be a beater, but she's fast."

Remus chewed the inside of his cheek. "I really like Matthews as a chaser," he said feebly. "But he wasn't as fast as Johnson, I'll admit."

"And he missed two out of seven goals," James interjected. "Johnson is who we need, Alois, the chasers are a team. What do you think?"

"I want her. She's remarkable, I can see what Williams was talking about to you, Remus."

The decision was finalized; the captain, seeker, keeper and beater all shook hands. For the first time that they, they all felt a relief that the hardest part was over and they could get to training. Sirius and James walked behind their captain with Alois and watched as the names of everyone who wasn't successful get named and shamed.

A couple of the second years got teary and ran off to the changing rooms, the rest just shot them dirty looks and left in silence. When Johnson and the Drew boys were the only ones left, the three of them were bursting with excitement. It meant they'd made it, they were the three Remus was looking for.

Or, they did so awfully that the current team wanted to give them a good telling off.

Sirius and James shared an amused look when they caught Amelia rocking on the balls of her feet.

"Johnson," Remus called. "Congratulations, you're our new chaser. Kole and Paxton, you're our beaters. Can't say we've ever had twins on the team before."

There was no one to scream and hug Amelia so she stood there and tried to supress her huge grin. The brothers roared with happiness, clapping for one another with joy until Remus coughed for them to quieten down.

"We train every Friday afternoon or Sunday morning," he said. "Someone will let you know which is which during the week. When the first game is announced, training will go three times a week. Are you ready to make that commitment?"

Amelia nodded quickly, her ponytail swishing. "Good," Remus said. "Welcome to the Gryffindor Quidditch Team."

* * *

 ** _References:_**

 _"Magic never sat on anybody's knee and purred."_ is a reference to Robin Mckinley's _Spindle's End_ which is an adaptation of Sleeping Beauty. I love his writing so much.

\- 'AMOUR PROPRE' basically means a sense of one's worth.

\- Xavier is a name I got from the book version of _Pretty Little Liars._

* * *

 ** _Author Comment:_** when I was writing Walburga's howler, all I could think of was Mushu from Mulan screaming _'dishonour on you, dishonour on your cow!'_ and if you thought too then I am sorry


	5. Noxious Potion

_Author's Note:_ _Sirius does take NEWT potions in this, I'm changing only minor things IM SORRY! I'm trying to build the characters first - bare with me I beg of you. I can also understand if Isabelle isn't likeable, she's snappy and quiet, but can appear snotty - that is purposely!I just have so many ideas and characters to write and in the words of my savior Robin Mckinley: "the story is always better than your ability to write it."_

As always, please review and tell me what you think. PLEASE.

 _Disclaimer: all place, characters and ideas belong to J.K Rowling. I own nothing except for Isabelle._

* * *

 _Chapter Five: Noxious Potion_

* * *

"Move, you're all stressing me out!" Marlene shouted, elbowing a second year on the third floor the next day.

The girls were all agitated that afternoon, having barely slept the night before. It had been full of giggling and excitement; Amelia simply couldn't sleep after being made Chaser and wouldn't let anyone else sleep either.

Isabelle rubbed her eyes and yawned. "Godric, I am going to be straight to bed after Potions tonight."

"I'm with you. If Amelia starts squealing, dangling her Quidditch robes around, I'll throw her out the window." Lily said, slightly agitated. She looked back to Severus, who was struggling to move through the crowd of pupils.

There was always a traffic jam between lessons, especially on route to the dungeons. With most of Slytherin crawling out of their cave, it was a battle of knee jabs and dirty looks.

Isabelle followed the path Marlene had cleared by shoving the lower years out the way, she was very good at taking her anger out on people. Whereas Severus and Lily seemed to be on relatively good terms again, they idly squeezed through the gap in happy chatter. From what Isabelle could pick up, he was telling her about what he couldn't wait to try in Potions.

"I don't know what she sees in him," Marlene whispered down Isabelle's ear. "The lad will run off as soon as Arsewipe and Mary Poppins get here."

"His friends have always been so vile. I don't know what _he_ sees in them."

Marlene nodded and gave a tiny first year a shove out of her path. "I know I'm a bully," she said. "But every cloud has a silver lining."

"OI!" A first year Slytherin screamed down Isabelle's ear. She flinched and watched him sprint of to join his group.

"Maybe living under the Black Lake has made their heads turn to mush," Lily groaned, squeezing through several bodies. Severus smiled a little, looking down at her.

They reached a t-junction of corridors, Marlene waved herself off and ran to Charms and Isabelle went left with Lily and Severus. It wasn't so busy on the way direct to the Potions classroom, probably because the talking statue of Herberta the Hag liked to screech at you when you walked past - people fought to avoid her.

Isabelle looked down at her bag and shoved a hand in there to check for her books. As she was preoccupied, she didn't see the two Gryffindors locked together passionately.

Letting out an _oomph_ as she collided with a solid wall. She looked up, started, at Zelpha and Sirius Black.

"Watch yourself, Williams." Sirius scoffed. Zelpha wiped her mouth of saliva and was about to go for him again.

"Padfoot! Oi!" James pushed passed her roughly and laughed, "whoa. Sorry, Wiliams. Come on, Pads. You can't get an O snogging your way through Potions." He grabbed his friend and dragged him from the girl, looking back. "Evans, lovely to see you. Snivellus, it is _not_ a pleasure."

Severus clenched his jaw at Potter but relaxed when Lily touched his arm.

"You don't hold me like that!" James cried from the Potions door. Sirius grabbed and yanked him into the room, out of sight.

"Just ignore him," Isabelle narrowed her eyes at where the boys disappeared.

"Severus, don't listen to... Sev?" Lily looked around wildly for him. The hurt flashed across her face when she saw Avery and Mulciber on the far side of the corridor; of course, Severus' black hair was moving towards them.

It proved that Marlene was right, brutally. Isabelle bumped Lily's shoulder gently. "Don't worry 'bout him," she said. "Worry about how much Slughorn is going to pick on us today, being his favorites come with a price."

Lily couldn't bring herself to smile, she was preoccupied with Severus.

The girls looked up at the oak door, around it was a latin incantation written in gold. It swung open and Slughorn's cheery figure greeted them. His belly protruded out and matched the great walrus mustache over his happy smile.

"Good afternoon, Miss Williams. Miss Evans, lovely to see you again," he said with delight. "Come in, come in! My favorite Gryffindors, it is always a pleasure."

The dungeon was, as usual, full of vapors and powerful smells. During their fifth year, there was always cauldrons brewing with freshly made potions, but today there was only one at Slughorn's desk. Isabelle and Lily sniffed it as they passed by and went over to a bare table away from the Slytherins. There were four large square tables in the class, three on the outside and one in the middle. The one by the door was occupied by Avery, Rosier, and Severus.

"Sir?" said Sirius, standing awkwardly at the front. Despite getting there first, he was at a loss. "I'm not sure what to do."

"Why, Sirius. What's wrong, m'boy?"

"I — well, I got a T in my exams but McGonagall said you still want me in the class?"

"Ah, yes. I do understand you want to an auror and I'm willing to help in any way. Don't you worry, dear boy. If you don't have the books, there's one or two in the cupboard." He pointed to a stack of Libatius Borage's _Advance Potion-Making_ and smiled. "I taught your father, you know. Be dreadful for me to turn away such talent."

Sirius swallowed, thankful his back was to the class. Picking up a scabby book, he turned and looked at James who was making his way over to the table with Evans and her friend.

"Potter, m'lad. Sit here, you'll have your back to the desk. Sirius, you too. There's much more room for our Potion we shall be creating today. Oh, Percy, take a seat as well."

Peter went red at the sniggering in the room but took a seat next to Sirius and James. He didn't want to correct Slughorn.

"Now then," said Slughorn, returning to the front of the class. He picked a pocket-watch from his breast pocket, with slight difficult as his inflated chest was straining the power of the buttons on his waistcoat. "Our lessons today go from fourth to fifth period. We shall have a break midway and then continue. To begin, I have prepared a rather curious potion. It is an advanced level, but you should all know. Can anyone guess?"

Isabelle looked at the cauldron and saw faint blue smoke rising. There was a smell of something sour. She went to raise her hand but James did quicker, she and Lily stared at him in surprise.

"Mr Potter," Slughorn said joyfully. "Oh, this is a surprise. What is it, then?"

"Wolfsbane, sir."

"Very good! Now," he continued. "What does wolfsbane actually do?"

Sirius elbowed James, hard. He looked at him and they shared a look. Both didn't put their hand up even though they knew everything about wolfsbane. Peter's eyes were wide, he couldn't keep a secret to save his life so he shoved his face down and pretended to find the table surface much more interesting than the lesson.

Isabelle looked at Sirius and James as they began whispering to each other.

"Miss Williams?" Slughorn called. She looked up in surprise and realized her hand was up. She coughed, "it relieves the symptoms of lycanthropy and prevents the victim from losing their thoughts during their transformation."

"Very good, very good. Miss Williams, can you tell me the side effects?"

She tried to remember what she'd read in Advanced Potions. "If a full-moon occurs then the person still becomes a werewolf, but sleepy. They are still themselves and usually hide away until the sun comes up. Wolfsbane is actually extremely expensive so most victims have no choice but to turn and lose their thoughts for the night."

"Oh, my, you are doing exceptionally well this year, Isabelle! Are you sure you're not related to Arnold of Villanova? He was very good at retaining information."

She shook her head with an embarrassed smile. "I'm muggle-born, sir."

"Ah, of course, of course. Well then, ten points to Gryffindor for excellency!"

Lily looked up from her book to see Avery leaning into Severus to whisper something; both of them sniggered, but Slughorn didn't notice as he waddled back to the front of the class.

"Right, there is, in fact, a potion which exists that counters wolfsbane if misused. Say you were not of the were-family, and you still took wolfsbane, it would make the user incredibly ill. The Noxious Potion can also serve as a poison - stand alone. It's deadly tricky to make and a pain but you are in your NEWTs and there's no time like the present to try new things. It's all on page twenty-nine. Fifty points to whoever gets it spot on! Off you pop!"

There was a scraping as everyone stood up and moved their cauldrons towards them. With some loud clunking, weights and scales were put on the table and the classroom welcomed a soft hum of chattering.

The concentration in the room was hard but not enough to make it ridiculously competitive. Isabelle saw Severus feverishly flicking through his copy of _Advanced Potion Making_. He wanted those fifty points.

Looking down at her own book, she turned to the page and Lily read out the ingredients:

 _15oz. Bulbadox juice_

 _1oz. jellied armadillo bile_

 _3 Dragonfly thorax (crushed)_

 _100g Boomslang skin_

 _9oz. Salamander blood_

 _1lbs Ptolemy_

Lily groaned, rubbing her forehead. "Merlin, I hate using boomslang skin. It feels disgusting."

"Could be worse. Sometimes we have to use boomslang eyeballs. Marlene fainted last year when hers moved."

Lily laughed. "She knocked over the cauldron, too, and poured paralysis potion all over Pettigrew. Poor git."

The book said to add the bulbadox juice and bring it to a low simmer. Isabelle then started crushing the dragonfly thorax's and splashed them in, a little at a time until the liquid turned into a dull purple. The trickiest ingredient was armadillo bile, it came as a liquid and Isabelle strained to stir it quick enough so it became a slush.

"Oh, bugger." Lily hissed as the bile sloshed into the cauldron and down the sides. She quickly waved her wand and the excess vanished before Slughorn could see it.

Lily and Isabelle were Slughorn's favorites, they didn't want to ruin their reputation with him either.

According to the book, they had to counterclockwise stir every time they folded the mixture twice. Isabelle followed the instructions and watched the mixture turn into a subtle grey.

"Do you think we'll be invited to the Slugclub again, this year?" Lily asked, she'd tied her hair back tightly.

Isabelle nodded. "Definitely. I hope so, anyway. I really enjoyed the Christmas parties."

"I have a feeling he's trying to get Black and Potter to join, too. Getting a T at OWL? How thick can you be?" Lily rolled her eyes. "And they're both pureblood. Slughorn likes big names."

"Black is one of the sacred twenty-eight. If Slughorn knew his father then, of course, he's going to want more of them."

There was a bang and the class stopped their chatter to look up at Potter and Black. Their cauldron wasn't exactly a cauldron anymore, it was a melted mess on they desk. Brown liquid was bubbling in the shallow dip left and there was a monstrous stench of burnt rubber.

Sirius' white school shirt was covered in black soot.

Slughorn sighed. He flicked his wand and the cauldron was cleared of it's putrid contents. "There is still time to start over!"

Sirius held up his hands. "In my defense, I was left unattended."

Peter laughed quietly as James let out a snort, continuing in making his own potion whilst Sirius tried to brush the dirt off himself.

Across the classroom, Avery and Rosier were watching Isabelle. They'd stopped bothering with their own potion and thought that it had been a little too long since they'd had a good conversation with a muggle born.

"Hey, Williams!" Avery shouted. "Can you help me with my potion, I'm stuck."

Isabelle looked at the two as they snickered. She glanced to Professor Slughorn who was looking at her eagerly, unaware of the great joke she was. Taking a deep breath, she froze the movement of her silver spoon and went over.

"Yes?" She asked, nervously picking at the end of her sleeve. Severus was getting on with his potion wordlessly, he didn't look up at her or acknowledge that she was there. It was the same thing he'd been doing to Lily. Avery clicked his tongue, looking at the muggle-born with a foul gaze. He crushed some dragonfly thorax into his cauldron.

"You really deserved those ten points, Williams," Rosier said, leaning on the table. "Why not bring Evans over, too? Aren't you both part of Slughorn's little muggle-club, oh, I mean Slugclub."

"I..." she stuttered. She cursed herself for bothering to go over. Turning away, she went to make a beeline for her desk.

"Hey - no, wait. Come back - come - _back!"_ Rosier snapped, he grabbed Isabelle's arm and turned her around. "Don't ignore me, you little mud-blood. I wanted help with my potions and you will help me."

She yanked her elbow out of his arm and stepped away. "Don't touch me. What's wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you - knowing all this bullshit about werewolves and potions. Which wizard did you steal that wand from? Severus, tell me, in charms, can Williams actually do magic?"

Isabelle looked at Severus, he met her gaze with no emotion. There was a pinch in her chest, and she knew there would be no help from him. Mulciber had been sniveling like a snake behind his friend, his greasy blond hair sticking to the sides of his faces and forehead made Isabelle think he looked homeless, not the high-end pureblood supremacist he claimed to be.

"Did you read that article in the end, by the way? Funny how they try and hide it." Avery said. "But you know the truth like I do. Did you think about it a lot? I wonder how many died... four hundred, four thousand or shall we make it accurate and say it was fifty-five thousand people. Oh, I mean vermin."

Isabelle's hand slipped into his pocket and she cast her eyes down, feeling extremely hot and sweaty. With a grip around her wand, she fought to find a way of building enough courage to blast Avery through the window behind him.

"Hope that's fresh air you're holding in your pocket. We might have to make it fifty-five thousand and one mud-bloods, then."

"Avery-" Severus started.

"RIGHT THEN, STUDENTS," Slughorn boomed. Isabelle jumped and dropped her wand back to the bottom of her pocket. "You should be onto adding the ptolemy and then leaving it to brew for exactly forty minutes whilst you have lunch!"

A hand grabbed her arm and she looked up at Lily, behind her James Potter was watching her. His eyes repetitively glanced to the Slytherins looming overhead. Isabelle looked down at her friend's hand and allowed herself to be ushered back to the table.

She reached her stool and collapsed onto it, her head heavy. She hated them. _She hated them._

"You alright?" Lily asked quietly. She two vials of ptolemy ready, having made Isabelle's for her. "What did he say?"

"He was talking about the attack on Hanging Garden," Isabelle whispered, unable to talk louder. "He said there were fifty thousand muggles there and that I..."

"Don't. Don't finish it." Lily snapped, glancing to the Slytherins. "Don't listen to them, they can make their threats and say that you deserve all sorts of nasty things but it's how you react to it. They'll get their comeuppance in the end. Those who live awful lives, leave it awfully too."

Isabelle took the ptomley from Lily and nodded, feeling better. She poured it into her cauldron and watched it bubble dramatically then fizzle out into a still liquid of red.

Slughorn asked for a vial of everyones potions before lunch and Isabelle turned to grab a vial from her bag. She looked back to see Avery sneering at her and then walking away to join Mulciber.

Shaking it off, she attached tongs to the glass bottle and leaned over the cauldron to take some.

Without warning, the potion started to hiss and spit. She gasped as a hand grabbed her arm and wrenched her back, the potion exploded upwards in a venomous green and plastered her desk and floor. Isabelle looked to Lily, whose hand was wrapped around her upper arm. Her eyes were wide, breathing a little heavier out of shock.

"All hands on deck, girls!" Slughorn called with a booming laugh. "Not to worry. I'll clean it up!"

"Thought you were good at Potions," James joked and Lily shot him a cold glare.

The class started to file out, paying no attention to the mess as stuff like that happened all the time in Potions, but there was a snickering that Isabelle looked up to. She saw Avery smirking darkly at her, Mulciber whispering frantically down his ear, and Severus trying to avoid Lily's confused gaze.

Lily wrapped a hand around Isabelle's arm and they left the room.

* * *

Lunch for Isabelle consisted of a flimsy cheese sandwich and some carrot sticks. She felt guilty as the snacks made by the house-elves looked divine; rich biscuits with steaming tea, chicken salads, cornish pasties and sausage rolls.

The sick feeling in her stomach made the food taste like dust.

Eris was in the seat next to her, watching her plate with big eyes. He sniffed the air, clearly hungry after his adventure around the grounds.

"You eat mice," Isabelle said, putting the bread down. "Go find a bird to snack on."

"Find Follet to snack on," Marlene said seriously to the creature.

"That class is full of idiots, I swear," Lily waved her hands, thinking of James Potter and Black. "Black must've added too much Salamander blood, I don't know how. The measuring tube isn't that difficult to use."

"I've lost count of how many times it's happened. Why on Earth he's in that class..." Isabelle murmured. "We were talking about how he got a T in OWLs and yet Slughorn took him back."

"Like a lover," Marlene said dreamily. "With the Black family name."

"Oh, no. Sirius' lover is Zelpha. He was snogging her in the corridor."

Alice gasped, remembering how she'd run ahead to get to Charms. "Merlin! I saw them. His tongue must've been halfway down her throat. It was disgusting!"

"When?" Isabelle frowned, trying to remember seeing the snotty student and Black.

"In the Dungeon corridor," Lily explained. "Did you not see? You had to shove through them."

"Was I meant to notice? I can't remember it."

"How could you _not_ notice?"

"I tend not to pay attention to Sirius because I don't care about him. Don't you do the same with James, or...?"

Lily choked. "Of course I do. I can't stand him either."

Isabelle felt a bit better being sat with her friends, she liked to distract herself and found listening to teasing or laughter helped.

Marlene took a piece of pie of of Alice's plate and then looked to Lily and Isabelle expectantly. "Anything else happen in the Dungeon?"

"Avery and Mulciber charmed Isabelle's potion to explode." Marlene's mouth dropped open and Lily. "It must've been non-verbal, though. I don't remember seeing him casting a spell."

"No way, that's awful. Was it poisoned, maybe?"

Isabelle remembered the sluggish texture of it, the stench. She nodded. "I think so, but I don't know what spell would do that."

Alice looked concerned. "Maybe it wasn't a spell. But you should report them. What they're doing is bullying. They did the same thing to Lily last year when they hexed her books to change every word to... to..."

"Mudblood," Lily said quietly.

There was a beat of silence then Marlene turned to Isabelle and gave her a icy look, "you should've stood up for yourself."

Isabelle dropped her sandwich. "What? How do you know I didn't?" Her friend raised her thick eyebrows at her. "I-I couldn't say anything! Slughorn was watching."

"Slughorn could be watching a grindylow massacring a goldfish for it's dinner and think it's giving it a cuddle. You need to stand up for yourself, Is." Marlene deadpanned.

Amelia nodded. "Next time they do something, curse them, hex them, _hell_ , just rip their hair out with your own hands!"

"You have to be brave about these things," Alice said.

"What's the point in being in Gryffindor if you're not brave?" Marlene scoffed, shooting a look at her.

Isabelle was stunned. She started stroking Eris, unable to decipher what her friends were trying to say.

"Now eat," Marlene said, jamming a buttered cracker into her mouth. "You look awful."

* * *

Back in the Potions room, there was a flurry of hurried movement as students returned with the idea of fifty points looking pretty good.

The Hufflepuffs were helping on another cut up the boomslang skin, all getting the job done much quicker and as a House. Isabelle looked at James and Sirius trying to repair the cauldron.

"Reparo!" James hissed, jabbing his wand at it. " _Reparo_. Scour - _scourgify_!"

"Maybe we should try using a muggle cleaning brush?" Peter input, worriedly watching his friend attack the equipment.

She rolled her eyes at them and went back to finishing off her own potion. Over lunch, Slughorn had recreated hers and left it as it had originally been before Avery and Mulciber intervened.

Over the brewing time, it had turned a vibrant blue which was an indication it was close to the typical misty periwinkle color.

"Mr Black, I really recommend going to get more ingredients from the cupboard. Orion was always quite good at this..." he tried to laugh, but it came out rather awkwardly. You could tell that Slughorn was fighting the decision for the Black family name to be completed on his list of favorite students.

"Miss Williams!" Isabelle looked up at her Professor. She looked at his hand clamped on Sirius' shoulder. "You wouldn't be so kind to help Mr Black, here. Bless you."

She closed her eyes together and sighed, turning around to root through the cupboard for everything that impossible child needed. His feet dragged along the floor and he was already waiting expectantly at her desk.

"Here's the Salamander Blood," Isabelle said as she shoved the jar in his hands. "You need to measure how much you need."

"Like you did?" He smirked, looking at the stain that was still on her desk. She gave him a long look of distaste and went to grab the Dragonfly wings.

Sirius shook his head at her, _she never understood a joke_. But his eye caught something wedged between the tables. He put down the jar in his hands and yanked the broken piece of flower wedged between the two tables. It fell apart in his hand, the leaves that used to be green were an ugly, ash grey, the black berries were shriveled and dry. He looked at Avery and to Isabelle's cauldron with a frown.

"I-uh," he mumbled, holding out the poison. "Williams? You know, I don't think it was your fault your cauldron exploded."

She stood up and moved over to him, looking at the plant. He tried to figure out what he was actually holding. "Maybe it's basil?" He shrugged.

"Can I?" Isabelle asked and he put it gingerly into her outstretched hand. Taking a sniff, she recognized it immediately, her face began to burn with embarrassment.

"What is it, then?" Sirius asked. She felt like his voice was a clanging bell, it hurt her head along with the sweet stench of poison. He moved towards her. "What is it?"

"Nothing." Isabelle snapped, snatching the Belladonna out of his reach. "It's nothing."

"I just wanted to know what is was."

"Well, maybe it's none of your business, Black." She said hurriedly.

His eyebrows knitted together in a frown. "You're so defensive. I was just trying to help."

"Help by doing what? Don't you think I know it wasn't my fault?"

Slughorn wandered between their bickering with a big smile, oblivious to the heated discussion. The Potions master inhaled the fumes coming off Isabelle's potion. Isabelle shoved her hand into her pocket and exhaled the swell in her chest.

"It is perfect!" He cried. "Going so well and with such little time! Tell me, did you add the dragonfly before the boomslang?"

Nodding, she strained a smile. "Yes, Professor. I figured the insect wouldn't make the potion as harsh to drink."

"Mm, good. And have you been practicing over the summer?"

"Constantly, Professor. It's my favorite subject, I hope to get an O next year during my final exams, Professor."

Slughorn laughed. "Why, of course, you will! You can always come to me for extra credit; Evans as well!"

"That would be brilliant, Professor. I'd love to. Does that mean extra revision sessions?"

Nodding eagerly, the Potions master listed off a number of days when he could teach more. Isabelle gave him an excited smile. "That'll be amazing, Professor. Thanks for helping me," she said as he walked off. She watched him wander over to Severus.

"Professor Slughorn, oooh, Professor." Sirius squealed sarcastically. Isabelle looked at him with a glare. "How do I get an outstanding, Professor? Want me to clean up the entire classroom, Professor? Let me lick your arse, Professor-"

Isabelle looked at him sharply and jabbed her silver spoon at him. "Go choke, Black."

He scoffed. "Merlin, I'm just making a joke. Have you ever heard of one?"

"Yes," she said haughtily and shoved the jar of crushed dragonfly thorax' into Sirius' chest. "It's you."

He scoffed and went back to James without a thank you. She narrowed her eyes at the back of his head. _Manners cost nothing_ , Isabelle thought angrily.

Infuriated, she began hacking at her boomslang. She would win those fifty points and prove that being a teacher's pet wasn't a bag thing.

Stirring clockwise twice and then leaving it to simmer for 20 seconds, before stirring anti-clockwise twelve times, she felt her cheeks heating up as she fought to complete it. The chatter had ceased as the time wore down, the Ravenclaws were mixing wildly away.

"And time's... up!" called Slughorn. "Stop stirring, please!"

She scooped the potion into a vial and into the clamp as he moved slowly among the tables.

Slughorn made no comment, but occasionally flicked the glass bottles. At last he reached the table where Isabelle and Lily were sitting. He smiled at Isabelle's, unstopping the cork and giving it a sniff. And finally he went to Lily's, his eyes widening.

"I do believe we have a winner!" He cried. "It was a difficult tie between Williams and Snape, both using tricks to jump ahead of the books, but Miss Evans - yours is perfect! The blue is spectacular, fifty points to Gryffindor!"

"Well done, Lils!" James went over to the table with a smirk. She ignored him, hurrying to pack her things away so she could catch up with Severus.

Listening to James flirt with Lily again was torture. Isabelle couldn't wait to get into bed and read a book by candlelight. She debated going to the library for a couple hours just to avoid Amelia talking about Quidditch, again.

Slughorn appeared next to Isabelle. "Miss Williams, may I just speak to you before you head to dinner?"

"Sir?"

"It's nothing bad, you're not in trouble. It'll only take a moment."

Isabelle nodded and looked at Lily. She physically saw the dread of having to avoid Potter all the way up to the Great Hall flash in her green eyes.

"I'll walk you to the feast, then?" James said loudly, but Lily turned her nose up. "Why do you always ignore me? I'm trying my best here."

Swishing her wand, the cauldron and ingredients disappeared. She shot James a glare, "maybe if you stopped throwing pathetic compliments all day, you'd actually achieve something, Potter."

"If you actually listened to what I had to say, they wouldn't be so pathetic."

"Do you really think I care about compliments? You're so bloody desperate." Lily snarled, hoisting her bag over her shoulder I'll see you at the feast, Is."

Going up to Slughorn's desk, Isabelle listened out for the Potion's room door closing and when the laughter of students disappeared down the corridor, she glanced at the emerald hourglass. The sand was moving quickly.

"Now," Slughorn started. "Professor McGonagall told me about your aspiration to work in the Education Department of the Ministry? And I can't help but notice you haven't had any experience actually trying to teach. So, I've introduced a new scheme in Potions to help those with... let's just say that aren't as excelled."

Isabelle nodded, intrigued.

"There are some who are retaking their OWL exams before NEWTs next year and I was wondering if you could tutor one or two? It shan't take up too much time for your own studies. It's all very professional and looks quite good in the Ministry."

"That's brilliant, Sir. Who would I be tutoring?"

Slughorn scratched his mustache and looked down at a list of names. "There is one in here and I understand it will be tricky but it's all for career prospects, isn't it, Williams?" She nodded again, straining to read whose name it was.

"Sirius Black isn't doing well in this class and it's a pity he isn't like his brother or father, even his cousin, Bellatrix, was exceptionally gifted in this subject..."

But Isabelle had stopped listening. She went rigid at the mention of Black's name, the dread of having to spend hours with him doing Potions made her feel warm with anger.

"Miss Williams? Miss Williams, are you listening? I really believe-"

"I can't teach him, Sir." She interrupted, meeting his owl eyes with an icy look. "I can't and I won't."

"Isabelle, it's only Sirius Black. He won't hurt you."

"Professor," Isabelle retorted. "Please, don't choose him. I'll take anyone, I'll reteach myself and do OWLs again!"

"Come now, Miss Williams. It's only a student."

"Sir! You saw what he did to Harriet last year! He turned her hair green!"

Slughorn waved his hand, shuffling back to his desk dismissively. "Really, he'll be harmless to teach," he said kindly. "Revision sessions aren't that difficult and you don't have to talk to one another outside of them, Isabelle."

She put her hands down on his desk, desperation taking over. Slughorn looked up at her in surprise. Her bad afternoon was becoming a bad day, and now it would turn into a bad year. "Professor." She started, fighting to control her voice. "I cannot teach Black. He won't listen, won't turn up, and he doesn't care!"

He chuckled. "Then you'll get more praise from the ministry for being able to make him cooperate. It's all beneficial and at the end you'll have a recommendation for the Education Department. I'm trying to help my favorite students this year."

"Can you pick another student to teach him? What about Lily? Or-" she stumbled to think of who else could teach the git, feeling a little bad for dropping her closest friend into it, but willing to shove her under the bus to stay as far away from that impossible boy.

Slughorn didn't seem to understand, for he removed his glasses with a gentle smile. "You're the most excelled, Miss Williams." He said, "and when I heard about your aspirations for teaching, it was only logical for you to get some experience."

Isabelle failed to see what experience she could gain from teaching Sirius Black the entire OWL potions, except maybe, how to lose all your hair out of stress or how little time it would take to fling yourself off he astronomy tower.

Slughorn gave another smile and put a monocle into his right eye, looking at a fifth year essay.

Dread bloomed her chest, her arguments were being repetitively dodged and the light at the end of the sixth year tunnel was becoming a black hole.

The tedious hours that were ahead of her; Black using her notes, her textbooks, cauldrons and ingredients; Black not bothering to even attend and making up a pathetic excuse when he was really snogging one of the weird sisters in the owlery; Black being... himself.

"Now, I'll allow you to borrow the Potions class whenever you need to. I have several others mentoring pupil, if you need to advice..."

Isabelle could barely listen to her Potions professor list out the OWL spectrum, the topics and practicals she had to do as well as how many hours she should be spending with her pupil. Slughorn was bordering hysteric excitement at the idea of one of his favorite pupils becoming an official Ministry of Education Executive; his favorites were always ones who made it far.

If that was the price to pay to do something she loved, then Isabelle decided there that she would rather be a beggar in Nocturn Alley than teach Sirius Black a thing.

"I have to talk to Sirius," Slughorn's voice came back. "I recommend Friday evenings when the library is quietest. Seven o'clock, how's that?"

Isabelle nodded slowly. She wanted to sink into the floor.

"Good, good. I've called for Sirius to talk to me after he's eaten. I'll let him know. If this is a success, I could have tutors every year!"

Her head began to ache as she exited the classroom quickly and stormed trough the west wing and barged into the Great Hall for the feast. She marched passed Peter and Remus, sat opposite the boy who would ruin her NEWT year.

"Someone up there," Isabelle cried, pointing to the sky when she reached Lily. "Someone who clearly resents me as a human being, has it in for me."

Across the table was Greta Catchlove and Amelia were in a conversation about wizarding cookbooks

"I'm just wondering if by using Hungarian cheese the recipe would be better. I've tried several dragon types but none of them really give it the flavor I wanted... are you listening, Mia?" Greta asked the Gryffindor.

"Mm? What was that, Greta?" Amelia stuttered. Her drowsy eyes landed on Belle and she suddenly perked up. "Oh, Iz! Where have you been?"

"That's what I need to talk to you about. Sorry for interrupting Greta." Isabella flushed.

"No, no I was off on a tangent of my own. Unless... any of you want to listen to my cooking ideas? It is rare you see a wizard cookbook."

Amelia waved her hand insensitively. "Maybe later, Catchlove. I'm dying to hear Isabelle's news — did you hex Avery? Or did Mulciber stun himself thinking his own reflection was a dementor? Is it Rosier? Did Peeves finally flush him down the toilet? Let it be good!"

Isabelle raised a hand, silencing her friend's ridiculous ideas. None of them would be important enough to be news, and she suspected Amelia was simply trying to lighten to mood before the final reveal. If anything, Isabelle felt her impending doom even more.

Grabbing a big spoon, she shoved it into her custard and huffed, "I have to teach Black the entire OWL Potions spectrum and he has to pass at the end of the year!"

There was a drowning silence between the girls, even Greta seemed at loss for words. For once. Marlene's mouth dropped open.

Isabelle gulped down a hefty amount of pudding, leaving the spoon in her mouth as she reached for the book Slughorn gave her before she left. Opening the first page, she slammed a finger down on the glossary.

Lily swapped a worried gaze with her friends. "Oh, Merlin."

There was a burst of annoyance in her eyes and she hissed: "look at this. Six years worth of potions in seven months, including actually making them - the bint has the concentration of a new born baby."

Lily looked at Isabelle regretfully, understanding the dislike the three of them all shared over the lunatics that were in their year.

With the spoon out her mouth, Isabelle nodded fiercely. "I know!" She took the utensil from her mouth. "I'm done for. He's going to be impossible and my life... my life will become..."

"A living hell." Amelia finally snorted. She shoved Isabelle's hand off the book and slammed it shut. "It's inevitable. Black is a self-centred prat. He'll ruin your Friday evenings. And then when you think you've had enough, he'll set all the work on fire and throw you in the Black Lake."

Isabelle let out a groan, shoving her spoon back into the bowl.

* * *

 ** _References:_**

The line _'to this day'_ is the name of a poem with the same name by Shane Koyczan. I heard it in a movie studies lesson when I was fourteen and I feel like it relates a lot to the journey of the marauders; the bullying and cruelty in their era.

\- I got a lot of the information about potions from Noel Green's EXACT replicas of the book. He wrote and scribbled by hand and they look so magical. However, he's only sold 30 and can never again due to copyright:(

 ** _comment:_**

\- writing this during the #onelovemanchester concert, completely devastated by what's happening in England right now and the world. Just remember,

 _ **love will always win.**_


	6. I Wear a Suitcase Under Each of My Eyes

_Author's Note:_ Writing this was really upsetting, but if any of you want to know I listened to 'Gryffindor Common Room Ambience' layered on top of Priscilla Ahn's _Dream._ I apologize if this appears sloppily written, I don't have a beta and my personal life isn't exactly working in my favor right now. I also cannot believe I've hit 40,000 words in six chapters, yay! Will edit in the morning for mistakes i've missed, as it's midnight here. _All my love, and happy reading._

 _Disclaimer: all place, characters and ideas belong to J.K Rowling. I own nothing except for Isabelle._

* * *

 _Chapter Six: I Wear a Suitcase Under Each One of My Eyes_

* * *

Sirius was leaning back into his Divination chair with a heavy chest. He was holding the bridge of his nose to try and stop the headache beginning from the mugwort and sage incense Oakton liked to burn. On that morning, it wasn't just the stench of herbs but the Potions' news that was getting to Sirius.

"Could be worse," Peter shrugged. He was fiddling with the bowl of deer bone runes, they made a comforting noise when clicked against each other. "You could be paired with Millicent."

Sirius smirked at the idea. _How entertaining that would have been,_ he thought. Gygars was completely obsessed with him and he relished in that, because it meant him and James could do whatever they liked; hex her belongings, dye her hair and jinx her teeth to grow three times the size. If Remus were in the class, he would've scolded Peter for bringing her up.

He never approved.

Sirius sighed, "yeah, I'll just get done for bullying her by Williams and Evans. Either way, I'll have to talk to her." All three boys turned to look at Isabelle sat with Lily. "I feel that depressed that I can't even make a joke about it." Sirius said. As if she heard him, she turned to meet his eye and he swore there was a flash of repulsion.

The girls went back to their private conversation. "I can't tell who's more pissed off about it," James commented. "I guess you could always have a Quidditch accident in the next three days before Friday."

"Remus would kill me. He'd see my broken leg or whatever, and break the other one. Or if I died, he'd bring me back to life and kill me again."

"I think he'd actually fix your legs and _then_ break both, actually."

"You're right, maybe I should just go and tell him my plan. He'd snap a bone for just thinking about it."

Peter turned over the rune in his fingers with blunt fascination. "He seems a bit stressed at the moment, don't you think?" James nodded.

"Yeah, it's you-know-what soon. I don't think he's taken any potion, either. If I see him before the feast, I'll ram it down his throat.

Sirius sank lower into his chair and ran a hand over his face, dragging his fingers over his skin. He craved a cigarette, something to make the dull ache of how gloomy he felt just leave.

"Maybe you need some potion, too." Peter inquired.

Needed to sleep, Sirius thought. "I just cannot be arsed with Potions. Williams is dating Anscombe as well, I bet she'll _purposely_ make me fail. If he's a first class bint-bitch then she probably is."

"You failed on your own," Peter let out a light laugh. He looked away from Isabelle and ran a hand through his thin hair. James caught sight of what his friend was fiddling with on the table. "Put those down," James scolded. "That could've been me."

Peter laughed and dropped the deer bone runes. He then gave Sirius a pitiful glance. "I don't think you could do any worse in Potions that you already have."

"Want to bet?"

"Listen, even if you did, Isabelle isn't a... a..."

"Bint-bitch." James said in unison with Sirius. "Yeah, we'll let you know about that one."

Across the classroom, Isabelle had her feet crossed and tucked up on her bowl chair. The tiny table in front of her held a number of Divination instruments; gemstone runes, broken twigs and geodes. They were spread out on a deep purple rug-type table cloth which draped along the floor.

Oakton's classroom was a mixture between an attic and an old-fashioned tea shop. The tables were on three separate tiers, surrounding a base level where the Professor's desk was. It wasn't really a desk, but a tree grown up against the wall, it's roots curved into a seat at it's base with moss spread out like a blanket. The grass faded out along the floor into dark wood, because the Divination teacher liked his personal space.

Everything was lit in a crimson light; the curtains were drawn and there were glowing amber crystals stuck into the tree. They crept up into the branches that spawned along the ceiling and created the illusion of a constant flow of sprinkling stardust.

Oakton emerged from his seat in his tree, great rusty-red robes trailing long off his arms and back. Innumerable chains and beads hung around his neck, and his hair had feathers intermingled in the grey strands. Isabelle's immediate impression in third year was that he was barking mad, even now, her opinion had not changed.

"My children," he said enchantingly, opening his arms. "You are seated in your physical form before me, finally."

The class watched him tiredly, the herbs beginning to set in. Oakton had a hobbled gliding effect when he walked, his robes were always too long so he could hide his infected kneazle bite.

"Our NEWT year begins," he called. "The owl has left the nest. All of you succeeded in rejoining me and I am grateful, eternally," he said softly. "I have been traveling this break. I took my leave beyond this world. However, I can sense... regretfully that none of you took the leap I assigned as summer homework? Luella? Aldrid? Peter? No? Morris, how was Grandma?"

A Gryffindor with plump red cheeks and a quill in his hand, looked up from his parchment. "Uh..." he stuttered. "Uh, yeah. She's good. She was alright, I s'pose."

"Excellent, Excellent, my darlings," he turned away from poor Morris. "Our NEWT level begins here and this class isn't just to pass an exam," he said wistfully. "It's to connect with that soul deep within, build a bridge between the mind and the Divine. Our first term will be on healing stones, healing runes and mending the mind. I'm not sure if any you made the connection with my herbs upon entering."

He looked around wildly, for a student who understood what he was talking about. There was no answer. "Well, in the case. The extra scent is aniseed. I stumbled across it traveling the Eastern Mediterranean. Which is where I also found my most prized possession."

The class collectively let out a sigh, none of them picking up the licorice smell.

Oakton went to his tree, and Isabelle then noticed the large structure covered by a thick blanket. Her Professor struggled to drag it off. Letting out a strangled puff of air, he yanked it from the object and it fell to the floor.

It was a giant quartz. The biggest, darkest rock she'd ever seen. Isabelle and Lily shared a look, wondering how on Earth Oakton had got that thing from abroad.

"The Enhydro Quartz have encapsulated water bubbles within," he said, voice full of wonder as he stared up at it, towering over his small, fat frame. "Water is the conduit to the divine," Oakton said, brushing a hand over the crystal. "And if you look, there are numerous sigils hidden within. The number of times I have astral-projected using this piece is remarkable."

Astral projection was incredibly tricky, a piece of magic that Isabelle wouldn't dare to attempt. She stared down at the rock in the middle of the table, trying to find water or anything close to a crack, even a smudge.

"Water contains many doors into the dimensions of our universe. An example is the Kelpie. After Aalis the Allagorical used his third eye in the great waters of the Asonroe Island, the great creature emerged from it's depths.

"Muggles nearby caught sight of the Kelpie and that created the Lock Ness Monster." Oakton let out a disappointed sigh, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the crystal. "Muggle superstition had destroyed their third eye, but I - I mean, _we_ can see past this. Now, I want you to look at the objects I've placed on your tables. Your quartz and runes, I placed by using my fourth eye. You will interpret the patterns using fifty-five and fifty-six of _Unfogging the Future_. The homework will be to find your own quartz and rune pieces by next week."

Isabelle and Lily reached out for the rocks in front of them. Looking at the murky orange quartz in her hand, Isabelle evaluated that she would not be conjuring a Kelpie anytime soon.

"Right," said Lily, opening her book. "What can you see in yours?"

"There's a streak of brown, some blue, I guess," Isabelle couldn't concentrate in the room, she felt so sleepy.

"There's dirt in mine." Lily frowned. "Some more dirt, maybe a bit of wet mud. Oh, and some dirt."

"Water is the way to the divine! Come on, my loves! FEEL THE WATER IN YOUR QUARTZ!" Professor Oakton cried from his seat in the tree.

Opening her own Divination copy, Isabelle tried to find the water droplets trapped in her rock. There was a couple, in a squashed pumpkin shape. "There's nothing about pumpkins in here," Isabelle murmured.

"Pumpkins? I'm trying to figure out what dust is meant to represent," said Lily. "It says I am destined to... to work in the Ministry? Oh, no. I'm destined to become a hag."

Oakton's wispy voice appeared from the shadows of the his tree. "What was that, my child?" he said as he hobbled over. "Oh, my!"

Oakton gasped dramatically and then leaned into the table. Isabelle's eyes widened, _what was the daft bat going on about?_

Child," Oakton sounded exasperated, looking between the two girls. "Is there a feud? Do any of you have dealings with Verónica Jaja?"

"I - I don't think so," said Lily, disturbed.

"I wouldn't be so sure if I were you, little one," said Professor Oakton, up close Isabelle saw the gold speckled around his wrinkled eyelids. His thin lips were painted the same color. "By the way, my dear," he shot suddenly at Zachary, the Gryffindor prefect. "That object you seek is above the fire by which you sleep."

Zachary gave him a startled look and then a hand went to the empty place on his robes, where his prefect badge should be.

The class watched Oakton with little amazement, he did this every year.

"Back to your crystal, darlings. Let me see, ah!" He cried, eyes landing on the crystal in her hands. "This beautiful piece of smoky quartz I actually got from Brazil, children. I saw it and fell in love with the piece. Do you see these surfaces?" He asked Lily, who was watching him with a disturbed frown.

"I... uh." Lily stuttered. "They're purple?"

"Purple? You believe they are purple?" He asked, his great owl eyes staring at her.

"Black? I don't know, it's dark."

James Potter stood up from his seat, dropping the quartz he was looking at. "What did you say about my best friend? Say it to me instead!" he cried.

Lily whipped around as quick as lightning, her eyes full of hatred. "Shout at me like that again and I'll give you something to cry about, Potter!"

Oakton clapped his hands together. "Oh, _hoh hoh_! Children, come now! Anyway, Evans. I might be making a seer out of you yet, child. Don't you think it just radiates this amazing energy? It makes you see... beyond!" He threw an arm out, making the class jump back. Isabelle watched him glide back to her Quartz piece, he picked it up and rubbed his thumb over it.

"I have to agree, my little one." He suddenly said to Isabelle. "Autumn _was_ the loveliest smile."

He left them alone without another word, dropping his precious Divination pieces and disappearing to pester other pupils.

"Is it just me, or are there too many old things giving us creepy messages this year?" Lily said ominously. "First, the sorting hat. Now, Oakton's gone all... all..."

"Odd? He's said things like that before."

Lily frowned. "I suppose. He did say Black was going to be marked and then the dimwit got that ugly tattoo on his shoulder from a homeless man in Hogsmeade to prove a point."

"I've never seen it," Isabelle shrugged. "I don't want to either. Merlin, just talking about him makes me feel sick. Can't believe I'm his babysitter."

"His tutor." Lily grinned. "Or, maybe that's the same thing?"

Professor Oakton carried on moving around the class slowly. He spoke to everyone, scaring half of them into believing their crystal meant they'd meet their impending doom in the coming months. Morris was crying because Oakton told him

Oakton was astounded at the trio's immersion in Divination. At least, he was, until he figured out that Sirius was making fun of him.

"Oh, no. I really did see a premonition of the Kelpie! There I was, naked, washing in the great waters of arse island!" Sirius shouted at he was forced to exit the classroom.

The rest of the lesson was rather dull. Isabelle and Lily descended Professor Oakton's ladder and the winding staircase in a haze, then headed for McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson.

They were in conversation about how many Quidditch games there were a year. Since neither of them really went, or were bothered about watching wizarding sport; it was a new concept that they had to be there to support Amelia.

Isabelle never went to see Alistair play because he was always excessively angry afterwards. She'd wait until he calmed down and stopped being such a drama queen.

They reached the classroom rather late, not realizing that Oakton's rambling took such a long time. McGonagall was stood at the front of the class, her pointed face glaring at the class. She was not in cat form today, either.

Upon entering, Isabelle looked at the only pupil in the class. Sirius Black was sat with his feet on the table, ooking back at the rest of the class with a smug expression. When he met her eyes, they turned sour and it was finalized that neither were looking forward to their shared company on Friday.

"Where have you all been?" McGonagall hissed. "My lesson began ten minutes ago."

Isabelle looked to her and pleaded, "please, Professor. We've just had Divination and Professor Oakton wouldn't let us leave."

"Ah, of course," said Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning. "There is no need to say any more, Miss Williams. Tell me, which of you will be meeting your doom this year?"

Everyone stared at her.

"My grandma," said Morris, finally.

"Of course," said Professor McGonagall, raising a thing eyebrow at him. "Did he mention how?"

"He told me she's going to get struck by lightning on her trip along the Great Wall of China."

Sirius frowned and swiveled around in his chair. "Isn't your grandmother blind and in a wheelchair?"

Morris went red. "Yeah, but I don't think he knew that."

"Well," said Mcgonagall again. "Then I hope your elder has fun on her trip. However, you should know that Oakton has been predicting doomsday for the last fifty years. He is quite obsessed with suffering. But that is not an excuse for you all to be so late. Even Mr Black was earlier than you all."

Sirius' face grew a large, satisfied smile. "That's only so I could spend more time with you, Minnie."

* * *

After the feast, Isabelle and Lily went to Gryffindor Tower to finish off their Transfiguration homework. They'd been set a meter essay on the dangers of apparating before they began practicing in a few months. NEWT was beginning to show that their strengths and brain-power was the most important aspect of a wizard/witch. With patroni planned in Defense Against the Dark Arts as well as some of the trickiest potions known to magic, Isabelle was beginning to become paranoid. Failure was the worst possible thing to happen to her, it was what scared her the most.

"I'd love to know what my Patronus is," Lily sighed. "I'd love it to be a Hedgehog, or maybe even a Bobcat like Eris. He's always been so lovely."

Isabelle looked around for her creature but found nothing, he must've been off in the school grounds again. Or up in her bed, snuggled asleep. She turned back to Evans. "I think _I_ have more chance of mine being a timid little weazle than anything like a lion," she shrugged.

"You muggle-borns talk about Patronus like it's an amazing thing," Marlene scoffed, looking up from her parchment. "It's just protection from dementors."

"Isn't it fascinating, though?"

"It'll be fascinating when see something scary enough to use it."

Amelia rolled her eyes, hidden behind her Runes book ."Look in the mirror, Mar," she sighed.

"You saying I'm ugly enough to make people's souls die?"

"Maybe."

"You must have first-hand experience with that sort of thing then. How's Henry with it?"

Amelia growled at her and crumpled a sheet of parchment beside her into a ball. She threw it at Marlene and hid back behind her book with a scowl. Perhaps something did happen.

"You owe me a butterbeer," Isabelle whispered to Lily. The redhead smiled at her.

"It's not October yet. Maybe this time it's different."

Amelia caught wind of what the two Gryffindors were giggling about. She slammed the book shut and narrowed her eyes at the one with long black hair. "Listen, Williams. I'll tell Anscombe how much of a horrible snogger you thought he was if you keep talking about my boyfriend."

"Back in fourth year-!"

"He's still as sensitive as a menopausal old woman. Don't test me."

Isabelle raised her eyebrows and Lily covered her mouth to stop the snort. She wanted to believe that Amelia was just touchy because she was nervous for her first Quidditch practice on Friday, but it was probably because she was figuring out that Henry was a complete arse.

The girls carried on scribbling down their homework, struggling to answer the questions set out by teachers. Lily was fighting to understand what Oakton meant about finding their own runes, they wasn't a Hogsmeade trip until the end of October and the only stones in Hogwarts were the ones you found in the dirt. That would have to do.

Isabelle was planning her study sessions with Sirius. Well, she wasn't really. But she was thinking about it. Putting the end of her quill between her teeth, she tried to imagine how three hours would go with him each week, perhaps more when the exam finally came around. It made her nervous, but determined to give it a go. If suffering Sirius Black was what it took to get accepted into the Ministry, then she would suffer.

"Should I start with Pepperup Potion? Or the uses of Bezoars?"

"In what?" Lily asked cluelessly.

"In Black's Potions revision."

"Start with Pepperup Potion," she replied. "You'll need it."

There was a sudden tapping at the window beside Isabelle. She looked up and in surprise, was a snowy white owl. Opening the window, the tiny thing hopped in and peered up at her. There was a white letter attached to it's foot, rather crumpled, as if it had been shoved on.

Unclipping it, Isabelle flipped over the note. "It's from Mum and Dad," Isabelle said, looking back down at the letter. It would've been strange that her letter was there at that time and not at breakfast, but she figured it was because her mother couldn't figure out how to use the owling system.

"What did I say, ey?" Marlene rolled her eyes. "Muggles."

"Shut it," Amelia rolled her eyes. "At least her parents write to her. Yours are just glad your massive trap isn't there to bark at them."

"Watch it, Johnson."

" _Watch it, Johnson_." Amelia mimicked in a high-pitched voice.

However, Isabelle was too busy looking at her mother's handwriting. They hadn't written since she'd arrived at school and now there was a surge of pain. She felt a swell of ache in her heart because she missed them so.

Struggling to control her voice, Isabelle stood up and breathed, "I'm gonna go and read this in the Library. I'll catch you all later."

"Do you want me to put your homework in the dorm?" Lily called as Isabelle made her way to the portrait. She threw a nod back and hurried out, scurrying down the stairs with the note crushed between her fingers.

Thankfully, there were no ghosts in the corridors. No Peeves loitering around, waiting for a victim and no prefects telling her to go back to Gryffindor. Isabelle fell into the Library door and shoved it open. She met the smell of crisp parchment, a vanilla-like aromatic smell mixed with Eastern Red Cedar.

It was all made out of the same wood, the library; a dark and old kind full of runes and magic. Nestled throughout carpeted nooks along the walls, were study tables lit by candlelight. The second and third levels in the library looked over the ground floor and if you kept climbing up a hidden passage then you'd reach the top of the astronomy tower.

On the bottom floor, where Isabelle was, a long table was stretched between two walls of bookshelves. She walked past it as well as several sections for books she liked to avoid; the invisible section and the howling section. Her left ear caught their fierce whispers.

Reaching the end, the slender figure of Madam Pince came into view. She had her thin wand held up, enchanting the curtain to close. At the patter of Isabelle's soft footsteps, the spindly witch turned and smiled at her. She was usually stern, with a constant frown. But when it was just her and students she liked, the witch was rather friendly.

Isabelle watched the large stained glass window disappear behind it's velvet blanket. It was a rippling Hogwarts emblem with several red phoenix flying around the background.

"Here to read, again, little dove?" Pince asked softly. Isabelle waved her letter from home with a shy smile. Pince smiled again. "I knew you would turn up sooner or later. There's some fresh biscuits on the table, I've left them out every night, just in case you came in here. I'll be in my office if you need anything, but be careful, Peeves is loitering the first floor. I've tried several times to banish the little beast from my books."

She smiled. "Thank you, M'am. But I'll come running if he turns up."

"Oh, do me the favor and hex him."

The doddery old witch wandered off then, picking up several books on her way to the third floor office she lived in.

Isabelle was left alone in the warm library. She looked around and wandered slowly through the shelves, wanting to read a nice book after she read her letter.

When she was alone, with the sound of fire crackling and the books, there was nothing else that mattered. An old, deep red colored book caught her eye and she went over to have a look.

It was a fifteenth century novel adapted from five French tapestries named _The Lady and the Unicorn_. As Isabelle scanned the first few pages, she felt at rest to the stress of all the revision she had to do:

 _"I found her diary underneath a tree  
_ _And started reading about me  
_ _The words began to stick and tears to flow  
_ _Her meaning now was clear to see  
_ _The love she'd waited for_ _was someone else, not me  
_ _Wouldn't you know it,  
_ _She wouldn't show it..."_

It wasn't often Isabelle turned her humming into singing; only quietly, because she wasn't good at it. Closing the book, she put it back into the shelf and hummed all the way to her favorite place in the library.

Tucked away, next to the warmest radiator, was the table Isabelle liked to sit at. As Pince had promised, there was a tin of hot biscuits; brown and toasted to perfection. The smell met Isabelle's nose, making her mouth water. She hadn't been hungry at dinner, but now the temptation was calling her.

Isabelle took a seat, sinking into the old leather chair and took out the letter. Her first and middle name was written in cursive. When she opened the letter, her eyes welled up:

 _Darling,_

 _We hope your time back at school is going well. You've been away for just over two weeks now and the house is dreadfully quiet. I tried to figure out how to attach the letter to the owl, I'm still not sure if I did it right._

Isabelle smiled at her mother's words.

 _Your father has been reading Stephen King's 'Carrie' over the last few days, which I find rather insensitive. He's obsessed with reading all these novels about the 'm' word. Am I allowed to write it? Either way, darling, the 'm' bouquet of humming roses you left at home lasted a long time, I have to say I loved them very much. Your father just got me a bunch of supermarket flowers, well attempted to, it was actually a lettuce. I'll be sending some muffins and cakes in the next few weeks so your father doesn't eat them all, maybe he's stress eating because the only company is myself and that owl._

 _There's been some commotion in the village, people keep talking about the bombings in Scotland. It makes me worried, it's the same as the ones a few years ago. And that awful one with the Annabelle Narbury's boy? Gosh, it scares me senseless. I don't know where you get your Gryffindor courage from, it certainly isn't me and it definitely isn't your father - a spider landed on his shoulder in the shed and he screamed all the way back down the garden yesterday._

 _I'll write again when the owl comes back. I still can't tell how they know, even after five years._

 _My love from the moon and back._

Isabelle's heart ached as she finished the letter. She felt the overwhelming desire to fly back home in that instant and hug her parents, again. There was so much and so little written down that it left her lost in questions. _What else was the muggle world saying about the attacks? What if they're linked to the first attack several years ago? Did that put her parents in danger?_

She didn't want to open the letter in Gryffindor because she hated how pathetically sensitive being reminded of home made her. Missing her parents, on top of being constantly reminded of the attack on the muggle village was proving to get to her more than any of the revision stress thrown on her year.

* * *

On the other side of the castle, in the Hospital Wing, Sirius and Remus were sat with Madam Pomfrey. She was bustling over the pair of them, hurrying back and forth from her office with supplies. The pair of them had been forced to see her after Remus nearly collapsed with exhaustion at dinner and Sirius' knuckle scabs had cracked open.

"Honestly," she huffed. "You two will be the death of me. That is, if you're not the death of yourselves. Just look at you Sirius!"

He laughed, looking down at his scabby knuckles. "It's not so bad, Pops. Doesn't even hurt."

"Honestly!" She cried, again. Remus' lip curled into a smile. "Don't you look at me like that," she snapped at him. "As soon as your headaches start, you must come to me. Immediately!"

"I know. I know, I should've but I still have a couple days."

"A couple days is a big difference. Where's Potter? And Peter? If they're off gallivanting in the grounds, I won't be healing them tonight. I tell you now."

"Prongs is stalking Lily, he said she was going to do some more astrology revision."

Madam Pomfrey looked up. "At this time?"

"Course not. James is just daft, she just said that loud enough so he wouldn't know she was actually in the common room." Sirius scoffed, he looked at Remus who was shaking his head. After the feast, the group had all parted ways. Sirius had been told off by his friends for not having his hand checked on. Remus had been scolded for not bothering to ease his headaches and sore muscles.

Pomfrey patted Sirius' re-split knuckle with a stinging ointment, it burned and then soothed him. He watched a scab form immediately, this time a lot less harsher looking.

"You're a miracle worker, Pops," he grinned cheekily. She rolled her eyes with a smile and waved her wand, a white bandage wrapped itself around his palm.

Pomfrey moved to Remus. "Now," she sighed and waited for a beating moment. The boys watched her take out a couple of vials from her apron. "You are to take a sip now. In the morning, just before eating, you take two more sips. If you can't sleep tonight, take then drink this," she held out a green bottle. "Understand, Remus?"

He nodded, taking the medicine from her gratefully. She looked at his worn face, how the dark circles under his eyes were more prominent. Taking a step back, she surveyed the two boys.

"Oh, look at you both," she sighed. "Chin up, dears. The terms only just started. Off you go, before either of you hurt yourselves again."

Sirius clamped a hand on Remus' shoulder, there were a shoot of pain from his knuckles. "Let's go. Thanks, Pops."

They waved the matron goodbye and set off into the Hospital Tower, in no rush to get back to Gryffindor. After a couple moment of silence, Remus looked up at his friend.

"What's up?" He asked.

Sirius debated on telling his friend about the howler, the meeting with Dumbledore and what had happened over the summer. He wanted to scream when he thought about it, but Remus was dealing with enough.

"It's nothing," Sirius shrugged. "Wish I'd have dropped out after OWLs, is' all."

"Nah, you don't. You just want to have something Walburga has nothing to do with - that's Hogwarts. I know about the howler." Sirius looked at Remus in surprise. "James told me."

"Of course." Sirius sighed, his head was aching again. Maybe he should've asked Pomfrey for some sleeping potion.

"Are you going to drop Muggle Studies, then?"

"No. If it upsets her, then fine. Good. I want her to lose it when I go back, I want the chance to scream at her. You know?"

They reached the bottom of the winding staircase and found themselves on an empty corridor. In the silence of the castle, Remus became aware of how much his chest ached. He felt nauseous.

"Want to sit in the library for a bit?" He asked. Sirius shook his head, unable to think of anything worse. After telling Remus the fraction of what was to happen over Christmas break, he wanted to just go to bed and sleep it off. "No, mate," he mumbled. "I think I'm just going to go to bed."

"Alright. Don't let Walburga get to you, or all that Potions you'll be doing after Quidditch practice."

Sirius looked at Remus' knowing smile, it was hard not to feel better. He looked away to another corridor which led back to Gryffindor Tower, the other way was the Library.

"See you later, Moony."

"Padfoot," Remus waved. When Sirius disappeared behind a corner, he let out a fatigued sigh. His eyes drooped with weariness, nearly stumbling on his way to the library; the warm, comfort of the castle.

There were no ghosts down the halls, no noises of Peeves either. Remus scratched his head, unable to stop thinking about how much he had to do in the next few weeks: Quidditch, revision, transitioning and trying to make sure his friends were all fine.

It seemed inevitable that his friends weren't fine at all. Their sixth year was darker than ever before, with the attack so close to Hogwarts and tensions running between purists and everyone else, even he felt the strain.

When Remus reached the Library, he pushed on the large door. A gust of warm air enveloped him, he wouldn't have minded falling asleep right there.

"Remus," Pince called down from her office immediately, he looked up at her with great effort. "I've re-stacked the Kenneth Grahame section."

"Really? I... thank you, M'am."

She had an aura of relaxed grace about her. The usually tight bun was lose and it great billows of grey, matching an ugly, vintage nightgown. Pince smiled down at Remus, always feeling sorry for the boy and unable to stop having her favorites.

He looked around as he walked down to his usual spot in the room, finding it more difficult to walk quickly. Sirius was right about going to sleep.

When he rounded the corner to the desk, he was pleasantly surprised to see Isabelle Williams there too. She was using her cloak as a blanket, leaning to one side with a small letter between her fingers.

"Hey," he said quietly.

She looked up from her note and he saw the tears in her eyes. Swallowing, he took the seat opposite her with a struggle.

"You been here long?" He nearly groaned at how good it felt to sit down. Isabelle shook her head and went back to re-reading the thing in her hand. There was something different this time about her usual quietness and he decided to just leave her be.

Turning around in his chair, he slid out a book from the shelf and lay it on the table. Isabelle then looked up again at him, her eyes sparkling with tears. She didn't say anything and somehow Remus knew she didn't want him to say anything either.

He watched her gingerly reach out and push the bowl of chocolate biscuits towards the middle of the table. In his state of repressed agony, he felt a real appreciation for gentleness of her. Leaning against the radiator heavily, he close his eyes. The full moon was coming, he could feel it as the days closed in. Some days the stretch of his skin and muscles was lost to him, he didn't realize there was a full moon until Dumbledore sent him a letter. Then, other times, the tiredness and ever-growing howl within became too much.

There was a _crunch_. Isabelle was chewing on a chocolate biscuit and brushing the crumbs from the corner of her lip.

Remus lowered his gaze to the temptation on the table. Reaching out to take one, he missed the small smile of reassurance it gave Isabelle.

* * *

 _ **References:** _

\- "I wear a suitcase under each one of my eyes" is a lyric from the song _Toyko_ by The Wombats.

\- Professor Oakton saying that the Autumn was the year's loveliest smile is from John Donne's _Elegy IX: The Autumnal._ Which is a very beautiful poem I had to analyse in Literature last year.

\- In Isabelle's letter from her mum it says 'supermarket flowers' which is the name of my favorite Ed Sheeran song. It makes me cry every time I hear it and I felt it conveys Isabelle's relationship with her parents.

\- The Lady and the Unicorn (French: _La Dame à la licorne_ ) are six French tapestries about the five senses

\- The song Isabelle is humming/singing/murmuring is _Diary_ by Bread - an emotional song release in 1972, so something that Isabelle would've listened to.

\- Verónica Jajathis is the Spanish version of the legend of _Bloody Mary_. According to this legend, if you close yourself in a dark room and repeat the name "Verónica Jaja" three times in front of a mirror, Miss Jaja herself will appear and promptly take your life.

\- All the Divination techniques and objects ARE real things used by seers, I tried to be as accurate as possible but I'm not a seer / i don't practice mysticism either. Sorry if it is offensive.

\- The Kelpie lives in the lakes and rivers of Scotland, and is often referred to as a "water horse" because it is shaped like a horse. However, the monster can assume other shapes in order to fool its victims. It will lure humans to ride on its back and take them to their doom, usually underwater, and eat them.

* * *

 ** _comment:_**

 _Corii00_ bless you for reviewing, it means a lot xx


	7. Blackstar Vinyl

_Author's Note:_ i dropped my green tea all over my laptop before I started writing this so maybe that's bad luck? _All my love and happy reading! Please review! I have so much love for reviewers! (I'm desperate pls)_

 _Disclaimer: all place, characters and ideas belong to J.K Rowling. I own nothing except for Isabelle._

* * *

 _Chapter Seven: Blackstar Vinyl_

* * *

The following Friday, James and Sirius had an idea to try and make Remus feel better. Upon reflection, it was ridiculously stupid.

Bursting out of the trophy room, all four boys scrambled to their feet. The roar and thunder behind them set them off into a new fit of laughter. Remus slammed the door shut, picking up Peter.

"Come on. Come on, mate!" Sirius roared, grabbing James' arm and yanking him off the ground. Remus and Peter were already off down the corridor and cackling.

"Those arseholes," James groaned. He started running with Sirius on his arm. Both turned and watched the door get blasted off it's hinges. It hit the wall with a bang and through the dust from broken stone, three huge statues appeared. They were dark grey and menacing.

"Holy shit!" Sirius laughed.

Any sane student would've been screaming for their life, but Sirius thought it was the greatest thing to happen to him all year. He tripped and stumbled trying to look at them moving. The idea was to command the statues so they could scare other students, but that plan was ruined when they couldn't control them.

Sirius tripped on his own feet. "For fuck's sake, you bint. Get up!" Remus shouted at him. Sirius felt a number of hands dragging him backwards.

" _Aresto Momentum_!" James cried. The statues froze mid-air. Their swords were raised and their running was put to a halt. It was only a temporary spell, as the things weren't actually alive, but suddenly their time to get out of there was short.

The boys scrabbled up and started running back down the corridor, their hearts beating faster and faster with andrenaline.

"We need to lead them somewhere else!" Peter said. "Maybe Hufflepuff tower? Our first Quidditch match is against them."

Remus shook his head. "No way. Dumbledore will think we're sabotaging them before our game!"

"We could make them fight the trolls? In the Slytherin dungeons?"

"Slytherin..." Sirius said. His eyes widened as if his brain had sparked an amazing idea." Slytherin!" He cried. "Let's give Snivellus a wake up call. He's been getting on my ti-"

"On your what?" Peter interrupted.

"On my-"

"No, wait!" James said incredulously. "That's genius, Padfoot. Come on, we'll go undo the freezing spell and take them to the dungeons."

They stopped short, slamming into a wall. Sirius groaned and pushed himself into a wobbly standing position.

As Remus caught his breath, he looked at each of his friends and sighed, "come on, guys. I really don't think taking to Snape is a good idea. He's an arse, but we really shouldn't."

James laughed, "he shares a dormitory with Rosier and Aubrey. I don't have a problem with them all being pummeled to death."

"Yeah, yeah. I know you don't, but I don't fancy being expelled for murder."

Sirius waved a finger. "It's not murder if they're pricks."

"Yes, it is." Remus snorted. He tried to impose some sort of order over his friends, but it was hard to keep a straight face.

There was a bang, like the sound of a wooden door being thrown open. For a moment, the four panicked that the three silver knights were chasing them again, but then a familiar patter... or storm of heels came towards them.

"POTTER!" Shouted McGongall. "BLACK! IS THAT YOU MAKING ALL THIS NOISE?"

Peter went red and put a hand over his mouth. "Oh, Merlin. How does she know it's you?"

"You?" Sirius repeated, his voice high-pitched. " _You?_ I didn't realise me and James were completely alone during this. Have I been talking to midair?"

Gasping, James pushed a hand into his scruffy bed-hair. "Shit! I should've brought the invisibility cloak."

"A bit late, isn't it?" Remus commented. "Well, if she really only wants you two, then we'll be off."

The two boys who hadn't been named went to sprint off back to the dormitory. The fleeting excitement of being able to jump back into bed was then diminished by Sirius grabbing Peter's arm.

"I don't think so. What happened to Gryffindor pride?"

Peter thought about his soft duvet and sighed as James rummaged through his cloak. He took out the map

"I solemnly swear I'm up to no good!" He whispered quickly. The parchment blossomed with black ink; intricate weaves of castle walls and doors spread out beneath the tip of his wand.

Looking down, they found Minerva McGongall and all of them huddled in a circle only moments away from her.

James sighed. "It's too late to run."

Ruffling his hair, Sirius straightened up and looked determined. "I can take her," he said seriously. Potter chanted the incantation to silence the map's secrets.

Remus shook his head, still looking at the map. "You think showing Gryffindor pride is by taking the punishment of a teacher?"

"Yeah well, next time you see a sea monster for me to defeat, let me know. Then I'll show you Gryffindor pride."

Footsteps quickened around the corner and the boys looked up. James shoved the map into his robes again and tried to stop his wicked grin.

"You four!" McGonagall hissed, her form lurched around the corner. "I knew it. What in Merlin's name, are the four of you doing up at six in the morning? Are you trying to wake the _entire_ school?"

Sirius smiled widely at her. "Minnie," he welcomed. "My love. How exquisite of you to join us."

Minerva McGonagall hadn't yet gotten dressed for the school day. She was in a grand night gown made of purple velvet, a pair of fluffy slippers peeked out around the bottom. Swishing her dressing gown, she created an ambience of elegance which no one else could achieve. Sirius and James just nearly let slip a giggle.

"I have never been so appalled. You have one minute to tell me what you've done!"

"Why would we do anything?"

"Mr Black, do I need to replay all the meddling schemes and plots you've come up with in the past five years?"

"All strokes of genius, Professor. But really, we're just doing our morning jog." She gave him an icy glare.

"I am in the right mind to send you all to the Headmaster's Office. And then you will explain why you have decided to make such ridiculous noise. Do any of you care about the well-being of other students? Even yourselves?"

They exchanged and James tried to cover his snort with a coughing fit. He put a hand over his mouth and spluttered which caught the Deputy-head's menacing look. "What exactly are you planning to do with your education, Mr Potter? You wanted to become an auror, didn't you?"

"I... uh. Yes, Professor."

"How would that work out spending the rest of your NEWTs in detention?"

"I'd have to pick another career path, I s'pose."

"Oh, really? What would that be? Leading the rest of the group into trouble every other day?"

"No, Professor. I've already decided what I'd do if I don't become an auror."

"Would you care to enlighten me before or after I issue detention slips?"

"I was thinking of prostitution."

The boys were going red in face up to James' comment, but when Sirius let out an unattractively loud laugh, they lost it and started screeching. Black doubled over and whacked Potter's arm, roaring with laughter. With tears in his eyes, he looked past McGonagall and saw three sets of armour racing around the corner.

The spell had been broken.

Silver clattered against silver, the statues stumbled and tripped over as they fought to steady themselves. It only made them laugh harder. Sirius could barely breathe.

"What on Earth?" McGonagall spluttered. " _Confrigo!_ "

Remus grabbed Sirius' arm and yanked him upright. With McGonagall distracted, all four started for Gryffindor Common Room.

"This is brilliant!" James yelled.

"Confrigo! Potter, Black - all four of you stop right - _confrigo_!"

McGonagall let loose another spell and bits of armour, sword and shield alike splattered the corridor. A breastplate narrowly missed Peter's head as he ducked.

Sirius burst out laughing, doubling over in hysterics as he ran. The sets of armour tried to re-piece itself together and when he looked back, McGonagall's hair was wildly flailing around with her nightgown. The boys started laughing again.

* * *

 _It was taking longer for the sun to come up,_ Isabelle thought as she stared out of her dormitory window.

It was stretching past six in the morning, the sun was barely showing, despite the soft glow of orange and yellow it created over her form. She bathed in the tinge of warmth it gave her.

The sound of Eris' snoring made her turn her head around, she looked at him completely lost to reality on her bed. His huge paws stretched out and pummelled the sheets, obviously in a pleasant dream.

The rest of the dormitory were still asleep. Isabelle looked at the muggle clock on Lily's bedside, it was beneath her posters of the Jackson Five and The Beach Boys. They didn't move unlike Marlene's banner of the wizarding band: doctor faustus.

They were a group of fifteen half-porlock wizards who claimed to be over three-hundred years old. The one with the abnormally long white beard caught Isabelle looking and gave her a wave.

After waiting for a couple more minutes, she shifted off the windowsill and went down to the common room. There was a couple of lower years already there as Isabelle took a seat on the leather sofa.

"Why are you awake?" A soft voice asked behind her. Isabelle looked in surprise at Lily, in her pink nightgown and hair thrown up into a dishevelled bun.

"I couldn't sleep, but I like listening to the fire so I came down here."

"You could've woken me up. Is it because you haven't heard back from your parents?"

"No, no. I'm fine, sometimes I just can't sleep."

"We can go to breakfast as soon as it's ready?"

Isabelle felt her stomach growl and she nodded. "Yes, please. I fancy pancakes."

"Yes! Pancakes are so-"

"What time do you call this?" The Fat Lady's voice screeched over Lily. The girls swivelled around in shock and stared at the figures hurrying through the portrait door.

"Next time you wake me up, I'll step out of my portrait and strangle you!"

"Godric, what's got her knickers in a twist." Peter said to Remus. They laughed and walked through the common room to their dormitory.

"What the hell?" Lily whispered. "If they're there then where are-"

"James! James, look at this. Look." Sirius' loud voice giggled from the portrait door.

Isabelle looked over at shoulder and regretted it. James and Sirius had hurtled through the portrait and straight into a group of giggling second years. Sirius had the helmet of a knight on his head, it was far too big and he was using both hands to stop it crushing his shoulders. His laughter echoed inside the metal armour.

"Pads, how did you get that?" James laughed. "Let me try it on!"

Isabelle and Lily turned back to the fire and shared a glare. More students were beginning to come down from their beds, some dressed and some in their pyjamas. Every single one that saw James and Sirius started laughing along with them.

Alois and Kole Drew came down the stairs in deep conversation about Quidditch. They grinned at their seeker struggling to hoist the helmet onto his head.

"Is that the new equipment?" Kole laughed. "Looks smashing."

James heaved under the weight on the metal. "Yes, it is. Don't you think it matches my legs? Makes me look rather attractive?"

"I think it makes you look like a tiny mouse."

James scoffed, looking afronted. He glanced at Lily to make sure she was paying attention. "You're embarrassing me in front of company!"

"You're embarrassing yourself!" Alois shouted, he'd just come to pick up the fresh copies of the Daily Prophet house-elves sometimes left out. Kole laughed as they returned back up the stairs together.

Sirius helped James take the helmet off and they dropped with with a loud thud in the corner of the room for the house-elves to clean up. McGonagall was bound to come after them at some point as well, she was probably fuming that they ran off.

Walking past the sofas, James winked at Lily. "Nice pyjamas, Evans."

She shot him a disgusted glare and made a dramatic point of turning away from him. James shrugged and started for the dormitories.

"Do you think Moony and Wormtail are up there? I don't think I've ever seen Pete run so fast."

"He only runs if he's in danger. From like being crushed to death or missing out on desert or something."

Sirius and James' voices disappeared and Isabelle frowned. "Why do they call him Moony? He's not exactly a moon, is he?"

"Maybe he showed them his arse once." Marlene's voice appeared behind the back of the sofa. She was attempting to get a comb through her tangled hair. "From what I remember of Potter's birthday last year, after two shots of fireball, he was more than happy to go to his midnight revision, naked."

"That's not true. Remus would never do that."

"Not in front of you. Millicent keeps me up to date with her stalking, you see."

"If she loves to stalk them so much then she should be teaching Black and not me."

"Oh, Merlin. I forgot that was tonight. You beginning to feel excited yet?"

Isabelle groaned and flopped onto her side, hugging one of the red cushions to her at the reminder.

* * *

At two minutes past seven that evening, Isabelle was sat in library. It had been a long day of transfiguration, potions and homework, which should've ended in going to bed early. However, fate had it that she was to spend every precious Friday evening in the library.

Looking down at her Potion's book, she fiddled with the frayed corner. Her stomach was turning with anxiety; waiting for Sirius Black to make an appearance.

 _Perhaps he wouldn't turn up at all_ , Isabelle prayed.

She'd heard from Amelia that the first Quidditch practise had been grueling and intense, all of the team had ended feeling exhausted. Fingers crossed Sirius fell asleep and forgot. However, being shattered didn't stop Amelia from endlessly gushing over how Alois saved her twice from being knocked out by a bludger.

Isabelle left her chatting to Lily, not wanting to hear anymore of it; especially as Amelia already had a boyfriend.

Letting out a long breath, Isabelle looked out of the grand window next to her. She watched the Great Lake move with a graceful calmness. The setting sun seemed to paint the water and the trees dotted around the edge with a beautiful autumn red. Every so often, a large ripple would disturb the surface; that was where Solomon got too close.

Isabelle figured he was waiting for Hagrid to visit and feed him some tebo legs. They were his favourite treat.

The sound of the library door opening and closing bought her back into the castle, she looked up and her eyes landed on Sirius Black, who was poking his head around the corner.

"Good evening, Williams." He said. "I'm ready for the worst three hours of my life, if you are."

She rolled her eyes and watched him flop down into the leather chair opposite her. "Let's just get this over with," she said.

"Glad we agree on one thing."

As she began sorting out the rest of her supplies, she struggled to ignore the five years of indifference they shared. As the seconds ticked by, the air grew thick with nonchalance.

Sirius coughed and pulled out a single gold-feathered quill. Setting it out on the table with exetreme exaggeration, he watched the irritated flame flicker in Isabelle's eye. A smug grin appeared on his lips.

"Okay," she started quietly. "So, I don't know what Slughorn told you but you need to get an O by the end of this year." Sirius nodded. "He did say to do this every Friday but if you need to change the day for practise or whatever, I don't mind. Have you got your own potion book? From last year?"

Shaking his head, he smiled: "I burnt it."

"Why would you do that?"

"I didn't think I'd be retaking OWLs. It was a good idea at the time."

"Yeah... _really_ good idea. Okay, so we'll just use mine. The first chapter we'll do is pepper-up potion." She turned the book around and put her finger on the first chapter. "It usually cures a common cold, but can help if you feel tired. Pince has a cauldron full in here. It's a beginner to moderate liquid so we don't have to make it, unless you think that would help, then I'll talk to Slughorn?"

Sirius scanned the page without taking much of it in, he glanced at her. "Uh, yeah sure. Sure."

"You _do_ want to practise the potion?"

The idea of doing something practical choked him. "Oh, I mean no. I don't need to. We can skip that part."

 _The bint wasn't listening at all_ , Isabelle thought with an internal scowl. "Okay," she said. "So, if you start with drawing a diagram of a bottle and then I'll help you label the description, then we'll start the ingredients section."

She watched him, feeling evermore awkward than before. Sirius dipped his quill into her pot of ink and pressed it to the parchment. _Her_ parchment.

Over the next hour, she spoke with little emotion in her voice, pointing out the colour, smell and stagnation period of the potion. He scribbled down everything she said and listened to her telling him to bullet point his notes.

"Copy this down," Isabelle instructed. " _'The creator of the pepper-up potion was Glover Hipworth. He created it when he couldn't stop sneezing for twelve days.'_ "

"Why do I need to know that?"

"Origin questions are usually two-markers. One mark for the point, the other for the explanation."

"Oh, right. How many do I need to know?"

"There's fifty-"

"FIFTY?"

Isabelle gave him a look. "Fifty-four potions to-"

"FIFTY-FOUR? Bloody hell, was I dead last year? I don't remember that."

"You were probably too busy bullying everyone and flooding the Slytherin toilets."

"That was quite funny."

"You nearly drowned Severus."

"The water was two inches off the ground. He's dramatic and it _was_ hilarious."

"No, it wasn't."

"Yeah, but I'm Sirius Black so it makes it's funny."

Isabelle looked up from her bag, wondering if she was really in that situation; that he had the audacity to speak to her like that. "Oh, you'll have to excuse me," she said coldly. "I didn't realise I was in the presence of royalty."

Sirius looked up in shock, he hadn't meant he was a Black. As per usual, she'd taken it the wrong way and he was a bigger arse than before. He clenched his jaw and watched how her face was a picture of complete loathing.

She flicked through her book for a couple more moments of complete silence. Folding the corner of a few pages, she found content in reading the book and was inwardly trying to fan the flames of hatred.

Sirius observed how much work he'd done in the last couple hours, it was the most he'd done in years. A smug smile crept onto his lips, but it was quickly diminished.

"Right," said Isabelle. "For next Friday, can you just go over the first chapter, again? List all the effects of wrongly made Pepperup Potion and make it into an essay. It doesn't have to be long, but then I'll help you bullet point the notes for revision."

Sirius blinked slowly. "Revision?" He repeated. "An essay? Isn't the point of these session-whatevers so I don't have to revise more?" He watched Isabelle writing it down on a scrap of paper, she bookmarked the page he needed and pushed the book across to him.

"It's just basic things. You don't have to write meters or anything until next month."

"I'm _not_ doing an essay. I've got enough homework to do, come on."

"You need to do the essay. You need to do well at the end of the year, so that I-"

"So, that you can get some flash job at the Ministry. No, thanks. I'll pass fueling your ego."

"My ego? _My ego_ -?"

Sirius waved his hands to shush her, he squeezed his eyes together as her voice began to annoy him. "Okay, okay! I'll do the essay. Maybe... I don't know. Don't be disappointed if I don't."

Isabelle clenched her jaw, her mind flashed images of her having no career and being a homeless, wandless loner. "Black, you _need_ to do the list."

"Can I find a page in a textbook and give that to you?"

"What? I've given you the page you need. No. No, you need to take this seriously. You need to get an outstanding next year, not a troll again."

"I'll use my charm." Isabelle shot him an ill-amused glare and he rolled his eyes, groaning: "it was a joke. You haven't heard of one? Oh, wait, I've told you that before. Almost forgot."

"Yeah, you must've because that was the same time you told Marlene she looked like a troll and then you made fun of Millicent."

"For being half-troll."

"She's not half-troll!"

"But if her mother was a witch and her father was that sublime specimen of a man then... maybe I'm just pulling at strings here, but doesn't one plus one make an 'ickle baby Millie." He wiggled a little finger at her and pulled a face.

She looked outside the window in a huff and saw the crescent moon was risen high. Her palms were clammy as she fought to stop getting so angry at him. After a moment, she picked up her bag and began stuffing her quills into it.

Her friends were a soft spot for her. Isabelle looked at Sirius and said lifelessly: "next week, you can choke on the essay."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "After spending three hours with you, it would be my pleasure." Sirius hissed and ruffled his robes, standing up swiftly and leaving the library without another word.

Left in the silence of the library, Isabelle glared at the bookcases and envisioned Sirius storming off in a pathetic strop, she imagined him tripping over and bashing his nose. Then he wouldn't be such an arrogant tosser.

Could that have gone anymore awfully? Isabelle thought, finally packing away the rest of the things. She hoisted her bag over her shoulder and was surprised to see Madam Pince awake and putting books away on their shelves.

The old librarian turned around and gave her a smile. "Kind of a pretty boy, isn't he?"

"Kind of an arse." Isabelle said icily. She missed the look of utter shock from Madam Pince and went for the door, pushing it open and taking the longer route back to Gryffindor Tower so she wouldn't run into Sirius again.

* * *

The Fat Lady wasn't pleased to see him. She was mid-lecture about his time-keeping when he threatened to use a silencing charm on her.

When he got into his dormitory, the other three were testing out different types of Bertie Botts. They found it incredibly amusing that he was in a foul mood.

"Her voice is so... so... aggravating! She talks to me like I'm thick," Sirius grumbled as he stared up at the ceiling of his four-poster bed.

"Did you get any work done?"

"Well, yeah, but she thinks I'm completely useless."

Peter made a wretching noise. He spat out his brown jellybean. "Ugh. Farm dirt flavour."

James chewed on some strawberry flavoured beans. "Aren't you meant to be meeting Zelpha at midnight?"

Sirius rolled over and looked out the window, the moon wasn't high enough in the sky yet. "Yeah, mate. I hope she isn't wearing that lipstick again, smudged all over me last time."

"You had it all over your nose last night. You looked pretty hideous."

"Well, she is a fierce snogger."

Remus chuckled, tossing a jellybean into the air and catching it with his hand. "I expected you to be a bit more stressed," he said. "You seem sort of chilled about it."

"Because I can't be bothered to think about Williams a second longer than I have to."

"It's because you're a scorpio," said Peter, studying his magazine. "They always calm down quicker than the other star signs." The three boys turned and looked at him.

" _Excuse me_ , Professor Oakton." James scoffed. Sirius laughed loudly.

"Are you stalking me astrologically, Peter?"

Remus gave him a disturbed look. "Astrologically? That's not even a word, no wonder Isabelle spoke to you like you were five."

Sirius snorted and shoved his middle finger up at Lupin.

"You know, the point of having friends is so I don't get bullied."

Potter grinned and went over to his four-posted bed. "The point of friends is to bully you," he laughed and pointed to what Peter was holding. "Anything about Jayne Kennedy in there?"

"Yeah, there's an interview about... Hey, get off! Piss off, I'm gonna read it first!" James was trying to rip the magazine from Peter, wrestling it from his hands with little effort. Sprinting to his own bed, he quickly opened it and found the half-blood model.

Sirius wandered over as he untied his tie, peering down at the article. "Blimey," he sighed. "She is-"

"Fifteen years older than you." Remus deadpanned. "All of you. And Pete, she'd be disgusted with all the copies of her picture you have under your bed. So good-luck trying to woo her."

Peter turned bright red as James and Sirius flopped onto the bed and started roaring with laughter. The noise was loud enough to wake the entire house up, but soon all four were howling.

* * *

When Isabelle reached Gryffindor Tower, she was still thinking about how ridiculously childish Black was. Not once had he bothered to listen to her, only turning up because it gave him something to do. Now, the first session was over and they probably wouldn't have another.

Peeves whizzed past her, on his head was a helmet that looked similiar to the one Sirius was giggling with earlier. She scowled at the poltergeist.

" _Weeee_ ," Peeves giggled manically. He flew around a corner, distracted by his new-found goodie.

The Fat Lady was snoring loudly when Isabelle stood in front of her. There was drool coming from the corner of her lips and a glass of sherry in her hand.

"Godricus est fides nostra," Isabelle said. The Lady didn't move so Isabelle repeated herself a little louder.

She let out a startled yelp and looked around wildly. Her big eyes landed on the Gryffindor. "Oh, honestly! Another one of you? I've just let you in!"

When Isabelle got to her dormitory, she could hear her friends were all still awake. An overwhelming feeling of anger built up instead of happiness, she was in the mood to be left alone.

"...I'm over it," Amelia sighed as Isabelle entered her dorm. "Henry isn't for me, I like Russian men."

"Alois isn't Russian." Marlene scoffed.

"His name is Russian."

"Oh, well then, my grandmother must actually be a flesh-eating slug because her middle name is ignislimax." Marlene deadpanned. "Oh, Is! You're alive! How did it go?"

Isabelle threw her bag down on her bed. "I'm going to have a bath."

"Alive, but damaged. As I predicted."

"I'm not damaged. I just might drown myself."

Lily pouted. "Can you do it after Christmas? I already have your gift."

Alice gave her a frown. "It's September, Lily."

Picking up her towel, Isabelle went to the bathroom. She closed the door and shut out the yapping.

The bathroom brought quiet relaxation; the smell of sweet patchouli, jasmine and aquatic florals returned to her and settled her tensed shoulders.

The shared bathroom wasn't overly large, but the school was traditional. Along the wall there were five shower cubicles and opposite were five baths. All freestanding, adorned with numerous golden taps and sponges. Hogwarts provided it's own soap; standard conditioner or wash that giggled when you opened them.

Isabelle didn't like to use it, she found that the soap was punishment for students who didn't think about basic hygiene.

Hanging up her towel on a golden hook, she proceeded to turn on the hot water and dropped several chimaera bath-bombs into the quickly filling tub. They weren't actually made out of chimaera, it was just because they blossomed into a shimmering red. Isabelle watched white mist rise off the water, smelling of rose petals.

In the little cubbies against the wall, were candles the colour of midnight sky. Their tiny flames flickered and danced, without any point as the ceiling was covered in panels of glowing crystal.

Isabelle carefully undressed, laying her robes out over the side of an empty bath on her other side. She slid into the water and a sigh escaped her lips.

As she lay there, she could hear Lily's record player. She was playing David Bowie again and Isabelle hummed the tune, trying to find a content happy-place:

 _"This is Major Tom to Ground Control  
_ _I'm stepping through the door  
_ _And I'm floating_ _in a most peculiar way  
_ _And the stars look very different today..."_

Isabelle lay in the tub, letting the water lap gently at her throat and jaw as she sang. Singing always helped settle her, even though she wasn't very good at it. Tonight, she desperately needed settling. Sirius' incompetence to be a decent human being stressed her out. Why was he so nasty to Millicent? Why did he expect Isabelle to pay him some respect for being a Black?

Maybe he hadn't shaken the pure-blood mania of the sacred twenty-eight, Isabelle pondered. He was so immature and that meant Sirius Black was like a child.

 _I cannot be angry. I have to have patience,_ Isabelle thought with desperation. She sank beneath the water and heat flooded her face. _Tell him that he will listen to you, he will learn. Ignore that stupid humour of his. He's not even funny._

Isabelle was good at calming down. She could force herself to be relaxed and wait for Sirius to stop fussing like an insolent three year old because she loved teaching and looking at the wonder in the eyes of those learning. Besides, it wasn't so difficult to pretend that Sirius was really a child who was talkative and excited all the time. When she rose from the water and let out a long sigh.

 _"Your circuit's dead,  
_ _there's something wrong  
_ _Can you hear me, Major Tom?"_

 _It'll all be okay,_ she told herself. _I will be firm and explain the rules, I'll tell him that I won't stand for stupidity._ More relaxed, Isabelle remembered Alistair, he wanted her to meet him in the prefect bathroom at one. She knew she wasn't going to be coming back to her dormitory until the early morning either.

Isabelle slid back into the water once more.

* * *

 _ **References**_

\- The description of the knights is similiar to how I imagined the knights to look from N.K Jeminisin's _The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms_. I read it when it was published, so like eleven/twelve years old which I probably shouldn't have because it's a bit rude - i was traumatised.

\- The wizarding band _Doctors Faustus_ is a reference to Christopher Marlowe's Elizabethan play ' _Doctor Faustus_ '. I wanted something similiar to the 'Weird Sister's as that is a reference to the witches in Macbeth!

\- _"Godricus est fides nostra"_ means Our Faith on Godric - I like how it's a reference to the house as well as what J K Rowling based spells, creatures and names on etc.

\- ignislimax isn't the scientific name for flesh-eating slug, it's actually latin for fire-slug which I had to translate.

\- The smells in the Gryffindor bathroom is what a bottle of Frédéric Malle Carnal Flower Shower Wash smells of. It's about 7,750 a bottle lmao I think I inhaled about 50 worth in Harrods, BUT it did smell nice so our Gryffindor gals have expensive taste

\- Jayne Kennedy was a 70s playboy model and won Miss Ohio beauty pageant - (lol)

\- The song Isabelle is singing is, of course, David Bowie's _Space Oddity_.

\- The chapter name _Blackstar Vinyl_ is the name of David Bowie's last album to be released - Blackstar. But the vinyl is said to contain loads of hidden messages and one of the ones I found was that if you expose the gatefold to sunlight, a starfield appears. I named it the 2016 album because it references it back to when you're reading this fanfiction but also back to the 1970s. Bit of symbollism there for all you literature lovers.

* * *

 _ **Comment**_

 _ **\- HAPPY 20TH ANNIVERSARY FOR THE BOOK RELEASE OF HARRY POTTER AND THE PHILOSOPHER'S STONE!**_

 _\- TripleS: hello! Thank you so so much for your review, my_ favourite _ones are when they're longer! It will slightly leave canon, I have some ideas I've always wanted to put in a marauder story but I can't say what at the moment hopefully you'll love it. Thank you!_


	8. The Full Moon

_Author's Note: Watching Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban for some Hogwarts vibes inspiration. PLUS, you've made it to chapter 8! What a miracle, thank you for reading - please review (if you want but please)._

 _Disclaimer: all place, characters and ideas belong to J.K Rowling. I own nothing except for Isabelle._

* * *

 _Chapter Eight: The Full Moon_

* * *

"No more," Isabelle whined, pushing Alistair's hand off of her waist. "I was with you all night, Al."

He smiled at her and moved a hand into her hair. Isabelle shifted backwards, thinking about the professors and students. It was breakfast, on a Saturday morning. The students created a hazy laziness in the hall, a couple of groups here and there as well as the professors at the table.

Alistair rolled his eyes. "Is there an expiration date on how much I can touch my girlfriend?"

"Yes!" Belle laughed. "Not when people are around." He slid up closer to her at the comment and began pestering with his hands, trying to tilt his head in for a kiss.

"You have the prettiest eyes," he teased, failing to woo her. She closed them and raised an eyebrow.

"What colour are they, then?"

"I... uh... grey?"

"They're brown."

His eyes lit up and he laughed. "They're _so_ brown. Like a... like a..."

Opening them, she gave him a disappointed look and said, "can you shut up? Stop trying to snog me."

"So, I can't touch you at all?"

She was left feeling cold when he moved back. "You can just talk to me instead. People don't want to be witnessing you trying to grope me."

"You make me sound so unromantic."

"I don't think you've ever been romantic."

"Yes, I have. I take you to Hogsmeade."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, yes. Walking through mud to get to the village is so amorous, isn't it?" That reminded her of something, she stopped stirring her cereal. "I forgot, Hagrid wants me to help put some pumpkins in crates for the Halloween feast and then he's trying to introduce some nifflers into his garden to help clear up the trails from the gold slugs."

Alistair started laughing. She tilted her head and watched his face, slightly confused. "What is it?"

" _You_ digging up vegetables? Probably in the rain and mud? Can I watch?" Isabelle gave him a shove. "I'm joking. But I still can't imagine it actually happening. When is it?"

The cereal suddenly became slightly more interesting. It was Lily who'd recieved the letter and told her that morning. She was sat at the Gryffindor table with Marlene now, probably talking about getting some protective gloves from Hogsmeade. Isabelle went back to her breakfast and fiddled with the spoon. "Just after Hogsmeade trip in a couple weeks," she murmured.

"So, we'll have to meet afterwards when you're all dirty and covered in sludge?"

For a Hufflepuff, he _was_ dramatic. Isabelle lifted a spoonful of food to her mouth, chewed and swallowed. "I know how to shower. I'll have one after I've finished." Alistair pulled a face.

"I don't think you should do it. Why can't he ask Potter? Or someone else? Johnson probably wouldn't mind, she's doing Quidditch now..."

"It'll be fine, Ali. I want to help Hagrid."

"Shouldn't you be helping the Professors with something more educationally-inclined? That would be better for you."

"What's that supposed to mean? That I can't do manual labour?"

Alistair blinked and shook his head. "It's just out of the blue," he argued. "The teaching I can understand, because it's more for reserved people. But being all down-to-earth isn't something I associated you with."

Swallowing a bite of toast, Isabelle pondered on what her boyfriend was trying to tell her. On deeper analysis, she figured that he was still living in the past. He didn't understand there was a glass ceiling to break.

Alistair put a hand on her thigh. "Hey, you know I didn't mean it in a bad way, Bells. If anything, it's a compliment because you try much harder than anyone else I know."

"If you'd have gone to a muggle school, you'd understand why I do. You shouldn't take magic for granted."

"And I don't. You should've been a Ravenclaw: you say the silliest things. Of course, I like magic. I'd hate to be a muggle." Isabelle gave him a look and he snorted. "Not that I don't like your parents, or anything."

She looked away and down to her bowl of cauldron cookie cereal and fiddled with her spoon. He was blabbing again, probably awkwardly to save himself the embarrassment of saying something that would've hurt her feelings. Isabelle gave him a small smile of reassurance that he hadn't, he always thought she was too sensitive.

He ran a hand through his red hair and moved it to her lower back. "We should go to Puddifoot's Teashop in Hogsmeade. If you're busy afterwards, I'd rather see you before."

She loved the teashop, they always went together; every Valentines especially. "Of course, Al."

Amos Diggory threw himself down opposite them after that. He was the Hufflepuff beater, alongside Alistair. With thick dirt-blond hair and dark eyes, his ego was the only thing fiercer than his aim. He shot her a quick greeting and engaged Alistair in a heavy conversation about Quidditch trials; the match and the game-plan. Isabelle finished her breakfast in idle silence, scraping in some of what her boyfriend was saying and ignoring the rest of it.

She noticed that Amos purposely didn't grate Amelia Johnson or her Quidditch skills or mention Gryffindor at all.

Looking between the two Hufflepuffs, she clicked her tongue in her mouth. She missed when Alistair was focusing on her, when he gave her attention. Last night had been full of it; of whispers and compressed breaths full of want. After not seeing him for weeks, it was odd having him kiss her again; like he'd really missed her.

Looking up from the table, she glanced between them both and said she was going. Neither heard her, so she repeated herself a bit louder and Alistair blinked as if he were dazed.

"What?" He asked. "Oh, you're leaving?"

"Well, I'm not much use talking about Quidditch, am I?"

He pursed his lips together and nodded. "I s'pose. If you're sure, I'll see you later. _Are_ you busy later?"

"No, not really. I have to write to my parents though."

"I'll see you in the library, then."

He touched her hand and let go after a small squeeze. Isabelle gave him a long look as she stood up and gathered her bag on her shoulder. She wished Amos had never turned up.

* * *

A short distance away, Evan Rosier, followed by the rest of the Slytherins including Mulciber, Avery, and Alecto Carrow were pushing some timid-looking first years out of the way so they could get to the Great Hall faster.

They ran into four Gryffindors who were looking at the noticeboard positioned in the middle of the doorway. It mentioned Quidditch and Hogsmeade.

Mulciber ran his tongue across his teeth, glowering at the one with shaggy hair. "Get out of our way, Black," he hissed. "Or I'll make you." The Slytherins burst into laughter and watched the Gryffindors with large grins.

Sirius closed his eyes briefly, exhaled the annoyance that usually came with a Slytherin's voice and turned around. "Mulciber," he said with distaste. "Your girlish laughter hit me like the lash of a hunting crop."

Mulciber's face turned into a sour frown. James didn't think it was possible for the boy to get any uglier and he was slightly irritated he'd been interrupted.

They stared each other down and blocked the path entirely.

"Move," Alecto hissed. She crossed her arms and adopted an ugly smirk. "You heard us."

James' glare slid to her. "We did, but because your voice is enough to make our ears bleed, I'm afraid we'll have to ignore you out for the sake of our health."

"Funny. You muggle-loving—"

Severus raised a hand to her, a look of hatred burning at Potter. He was usually awkward when alone, always keeping his head down and out of the way. But when he was with Mulciber, there was a rise in self-confidence that he couldn't control.

"Enough, Carrow." He said. "How's Lily, Potter? I heard her saying she thought it was impossible to hate someone as much as she _detests_ you. Having no attention must really be a dig in your ego."

James' face turned stony, he glared at Severus. "I wouldn't know. I feel that having an ego is better than just being able to speak when your friends are around. It's only a matter of time before Evans sees you for the wretched little snake you are, Snivellus." He slid his hand into his pocket, wrapping his fingers around his wand.

"But at least she does see me. All I notice is how much she dispises you, Potter. You could break your neck and she wouldn't give a shit."

James took out his wand and pointed it at Severus murderously. Snape clenched his jaw and made no move to take out his own.

"Good one, Sev." Mulciber murmured, eyeing the wand. "Using a mudblood to expose your true colours, Potter. Did you read the paper the other week? They're getting killed off. One by one, they're dropping like flies."

Sirius' teeth began to ache at how tight he was clenching them together. "Stop talking about that damn attack," he snapped. "Get a hobby, you sad fuck."

"Wait until I relay this all back to the Manor. They're not happy with you, are they? What will Mummy and Daddy do when they find out just where your loyalties lie."

The Black Manor, Sirius thought quickly. He crossed his arms and looked down with a repulsed glare. "I can't tell what makes you a bigger tosser; the fact you still going running back to Mummy to wipe your nose, or if you think I care."

"Oh, you'll care. Want to know why—?" Avery grabbed ahold of Mulciber's arm and he stopped talking, looking down at her. They shared a look, as if he was saying too much. Mulciber turned back to the Gryffindor, full of venom. "Everything will change, Black. Just you wait," he hissed. "That attack was the beginning. You, out of the rest of your mudblood brothers should know what's coming. It'll be you first."

There was a hushed chill that swept through Sirius. His mouth opened and closed it, unable to process what Mulciber meant. Mind whirring with memories of summer, he remembered the Slytherin had been at Black Manor. Sirius and Regulus had been ushered to other side of the home, away from it all.

 _What had really been happening then?_

Sirius went to grab Mulciber's collar.

"Don't you ever—"

Isabelle stormed between the two groups. She shoved between Mulciber and Sirius with little hesitation, oblivous to the row and Sirius and James took a step back as she caught all of their attention, bringing them back to the publicity of the entrance hall.

"I..." Mulciber stuttered, eyes darting over her. "Watch where you're walking, Williams! Getting damn mudblood germs all over me."

He brushed his robes down dramatically and shot her a digusted look, but she bowed her head and disappeared around the corner. Sirius raised his wand again as a flood of Hogwarts students hurried in front of him.

Eyes darting over the sea of people, the Gryffindors struggled to find the Slytherin group and soon they were lost in everyone leaving breakfast. The built-up hatred that simmered in the corridor disappeared.

"Come on," Remus said. He grabbed Sirius' arm and tugged for him to follow the rest of them. "Punch one of them another day. It's not worth it."

* * *

The boys seperated and re-joined one another throughout the day. This year, the Hogsmeade trips had been pushed back and it felt rather gloomy waiting around the castle until Halloween.

It was too cold to sit outside, so James and Sirius went to the fourth floor to try and sneak out of the castle and go to the three broomsticks for lunch. Their plan was soon ruined when Peeves whizzed past and began screeching for Argus Filch to catch the escaping students.

Remus went to a meeting with Dumbledore, picking up wolfsbane and listening to a small speech about the safety of the other students. He then vanished to Transfiguration to hand in his essay early. Peter went with him but was scolded by McGonagall for not doing his homework, he slunk back to Gryffindor Tower with new parchment to get it done.

Potter and Black were already there, on the sofas with an enchanted miniature quidditch toy-set flying around the room.

" _Mobiliarbus._ " James said. He pointed his wand at the snitch as Sirius charmed the broom to chase it around the ceiling.

Their childish eyes landed on Eris, the great cat sat at the bottom of the stairs to the girls' dormitory, watching the toys with narrowed eyes. He hissed at it when Sirius charmed the broom to whiz past his tail.

"Stupid cat," he mumbled.

After several more moments of Quidditch gaming, a sudden drowsiness overtook him, the broom dropped from the air and hit the fall with a soft clunk. "Wake me when it's time to go," Sirius said, rolling over onto his side. He pushed his head into the red pillow and closed his eyes without another word.

He then slept badly. First, he dreamed that he'd overslept, and that James was yelling, "Remus! Remus, calm down! No, no don't!" Then he dreamed that he was in a Muggle Studies and Walburga had crawled out of the telephone. He was running down the astronomy tower stairs, two at a time, trying to get away from her when he hit something solid. It was the chest of his father, beside him was Mulciber; a dirty smirk on his lips. When he looked down, the stairs disappeared and he fell through the air, waking up with a start.

It took a moment before Sirius realised he hadn't been asleep that long at all. Only a few hours. And on Monday, he'd be in Muggle Studies and his parents won't be there.

James looked away from the window and to Sirius. He blew the smoke from his lips, forgetting to exhale it outside. The cool air sent the smell around the common room - thankfully empty.

"Bad dream?"

Sirius rubbed his eyes. "Bad reality."

Snubbing the end of the cigarette onto the stone windowsill, James grinned. "Isn't that always the truth?"

Remus rolled up the sleeves of his jumper and ran a hand through his freshly washed hair. Thinking about it, he didn't see the point in why he'd had a shower. He'd end up covered in mud in the morning.

There was the sound of someone walking down the stairs. James hurried to shove the rest of the drug in his hand out and flicked the crumpled piece out the window, quickly brushing off the ash on the side.

When Peter appeared round the corner, he groaned. "Thought you were gonna be one of the prefects or some first year."

"I understand," Peter said as he shoved some shoes on. "I always bring joy when I enter the room."

"What, in the bloody hell, are they?" James asked, staring at Peter's feet. He looked down and lifted his jeans up.

"They're my pro-keds."

"I know. I didn't think you were so fashionable."

Peter picked up the pillow Sirius was sleeping on moments ago and threw it at James. He caught it with one hand. "I'll give you a bunch of fives if you ruin them."

It was just past eleven Sirius found after his nap. Everyone had gone to bed, not unusual at the beginning of term as students weren't used to the workload. Most were knocked out in the common room until they regained some energy to get to their dormitory.

Sirius and James followed Remus out the portrait. Peter was a few steps ahead, scurrying through the corridor as an animagi for prefects. With the map in his hand, James lost sight of him in animal form and focused on trying to see if Zachary was lurking.

"Look, he's in the trophy room."

"Probably shining his prefect badge with the cleaner in there."

"Peeves is in Filch's Office. Merlin, I hope he's setting something on fire."

The four set off through the castle, hurrying down the moving staircases and past the portraits that snoozed on the walls. It was eerily quiet, apart from the snores of those asleep.

As they reached a great oak door, James helped Peter pull it open. It creaked and echoed through the corridor; the boys slipped outside with ease and into the night. Walking down the stone stairway around the opposite side of the castle to the Great Lake, they wandered off onto some grass, towards the Dark Forest.

"Did you take your potion, Remus?" Sirius asked with his hands in his pockets.

Lupin nodded. "Yeah, whilst you were asleep. It tasted bloody awful." He scratched is neck as it began to tingle, like someone was pressing a needle to his skin.

"You feel alright?"

"I don't know, I can feel it starting. We should hurry. Maybe you guys should change."

Potter thought about it for a moment, but decided on the latter. If Remus was starting to feel it now, then anything could happen in the next few moments. "We'll wait until we get inside, mate," he said.

A drop of water hit James' cheek, he lifted a hand and touched the rain. More began to pour, only slightly, but enough to feel. They reached an opening, the Whomping Willow came into view in the moonlight.

"Nice night for it." James laughed as Remus let out a groan and fell to the ground, Peter rushed forward and put a hand on his back.

"Stop clarting about, James. Remus? Remus, it's only a little further."

The boys stared down at their friend as started wheezing. Remus spluttered and retched, "I know. I just... I can't breathe. I can't breathe!"

The three watched Remus for a beating moment. He grunted and lstarted hyperventilating. Heaving in and out deep breaths that ripped into his lungs, Remus fought the limbs that contorted and stretched inside of him.

Sirius frowned and took a step towards him, going to pick him up and help him into the tunnel, but James grabbed his shoulder.

"Wait," he murmured. "Look at the moon."

Looking up, his stomach felt as if it was packed with rocks. It was midnight, exactly.

There was a terrible snarling noise. Remus' head was lengthening, as was his body. On the floor, he crouched and you could hear the spit flying from his clenched teeth as he tried to breathe. Hair sprouted on his hands as they gripped his head, his nails curled into claws.

His t-shirt ripped open as spine grew. Then, he let out a scream. It sounded half-human, like he was crying and growling at the same time.

James looked around, back up to the castle and felt ill. He dug into his robes and took out his wand, listening to Remus fighting to howl behind him. " _Silenco_!" He cast. A wall of silvery white grew in front of him, growing into a dome around the Whomping Willow and themselves.

As the werewolf reared, snapping it's jaws, Peter stumbled and tripped backwards. He looked up at Remus fearfully.

"R-Remus?" He stuttered, praying the potion was working. There was no friend in the werewolf's eyes, though. They were huge irises full of black and that's when they all realised something was wrong.

Wolfsbane had a stagnation period, not often, but when it hadn't been left to brew for long enough. Sirius wished he'd have gone with Remus to Dumbledore to check the batch instead of messing around on the fourth floor.

Even though Remus knew enough about werewolves and the monthly transitions, he always forgot the minor details. Was Remus too far enough gone hear him? Sirius stared up at the creature.

The werewolf reared up on his hind legs and let out a snarl.

 _Wonderful_ , Sirius thought.

The creature turned around and looked for the three beating hearts it could hear, his eyes narrowing on the ground where the boys were lay in shock. Sirius could tell that they just had to distract him for a couple more minutes before Remus came back to them.

Climbing to his feet, he let out a shaky breath and met the werewolf's eye. "Boys," he warned. "We need to get him into the tunnel before he catches a wiff of anything else."

The Whomping Willow started to become restless. Beneath the moonlight it created a ghostly shadow; you couldn't see the details of it's bark or the brown. Unable to calculate where the branches were going, Sirius watched them begin to whip everywhere.

He ducked and nearly toppled back.

Potter hurried forward to grab Peter and cried: " _Stupefy_!"

"Nice one, James!" Sirius shouted with a grin. He took out his wand and held it up, ready to blind Remus so he would retreat into the tunnel. Sirius opened his mouth when a great force wooshed around him and whacked his side, sending him flying left. He hit a bank of mud, wet from the rain and staining his jumper.

"Uh," he groaned, seeing blur.

The Whomping Willow created a roaring noise as it creaked and cracked in the midnight air. It's thick trunks towered up high into the air, narrowly missing the werewolf.

Sirius fell onto his chest, nearly knocking his chin on the floor. He looked up alarmingly and watched the willow flapping it's branches around wildly. "The knot, Peter! Have you-?"

A heavy branch whipped lethally and struck Sirius across the cheek.

Squeaking, Peter shook and dropped his wand. He began shrinking into his clothes, his jumper became lumpy and slumped into the soil atop a pair of beige corduroy jeans.

The werewolf fell onto all fours and arched it's shoulders, they popped into place and James realised the transformation was complete. Running over to Sirius, he yanked him up and they both stumbled up. Sharing a look, they stepped apart.

James felt a growing warmth in his chest, ballooning into his chest. The heat pushed against his skin and he felt his limbs growing.

Sirius watched his friend transform into a stag, who reared on it's hind legs and kicked out at the werewolf. Snapping back to Remus, he watched him snarl, spit flying from his long teeth and ran forward.

As he changed, he picked up the stench of adrenaline and blood. He saw everything through the eyes of his animagi and posed in front of the werewolf with his jaws bared.

James kicked Remus in the chest, which would've been enough force to send a normal person flying, but the werewolf just stumbled.

He shook his head and swiped a claw at the stag, stepping forward for a moment before being shoved back by the black dog at it's feet.

Sirius snarled up at the werewolf, being careful to miss it's attempts to rip into him. He watched Remus backing away, cowering slightly beneath the Whomping Willow.

With James beside him, both boys overpowered the werewolf. They'd mastered the art of animal nature, how the slight of head enforced strength or a grumble scared something to death. At that moment, Remus was beginning to gain control of himself as he allowed the wolf to back down.

A flutter emerged from the Willow when Remus backed into the passage it hid. The boys watched the branches shake and quickly hurried after the werewolf before the charm broke. Sirius ran in first.

The walls were strips of wood, holding up the ceiling which was seven feet under ground. James moved through with great difficulty as a stag, but watched Sirius snarling at the retreating figure of the werewolf. He felt Peter clinging onto the short fur around his neck.

Remus disappeared into the darkness and they all emerged into a dimly lit hall, clambering up into the Shack.

It wasn't overly large. The house used to be a watch-tower of sorts for Hogwarts, where a retired gameskeeper used to live to deter any muggles from stumbling too close to the grounds. It hadn't been properly lived in, in over fifty years and the wood was rotting away.

Along the walls, was ugly grey wallpaper. The mahogony staircase and flooring was chewed by termites, the rugs stained with blood and filth.

The stench was something James would never get used to, it was a pungent odour of stagnant water and dust. He wrinkled his nose and followed his friends upstairs.

Remus was on two feet, his claws outstretched. He let out a howl which shook the house a Sirius snarled, snapping his jaws together to stop him making so much noise.

The werewolf tripped backwards and clenched his teeth together, growling. He fell through the door behind him and the black dog followed.

There was a clatter in the first bedroom and a stifled whine. Sirius barked loudly and in reply was another whimper. When James and Peter entered the room, they watched Remus fall back into the bed and scramble into the headboard.

His head whipped around wildly, looking frantically between everyone in the room. They all could've sighed in relief when they found the eyes were a cool blue; a _human_ cool blue.

Sirius pawed the ground for a moment and groaned, shifting back. He stood in front of the bed, beside the stag and rat with his hands up.

"It's alright, now." He whispered. "You're okay."

Remus tilted his head at his friend, the werewolf ears twitched as he lowered his head to the duvet. Like a dog, he settled with his body curled and gave the stag and rat a final look before closing his eyes.

Falling to his normal height, James retracted from his animagi form. He picked Peter up from the floor and put him on his shoulder, the lad preferred it that way.

"Guess that's it for the night," he muttered. Sirius followed him to the other side of the room and they took out a board-game.

* * *

There were birds chirping. That was the first thing Sirius could hear when he woke. As he inhaled, he realised his cheek was pressed against the lid of the piano and his jaw was locked in an uncomfortable position.

Sirius lifted a hand up to the blistering sunlight to shield his eyes. He looked up at his filthy hands, there was dirt underneath his nails and dried on his palms. His knuckles were healed but there was dried blood on his fingertips.

Putting a hand to his cheek, he felt a thin line of crusted blood from the Whomping Willow's branch. He must've scratched in his sleep, a dog habit he couldn't shake off.

James was awake already, sat in the corner of the room with a chessboard. He was setting up the pieces, probably for next month if it went smoother than this time. There was sock next to him, with a large lump inside.

Peter.

"That's not from...?" James asked, looking up and at the scratch on his friend's cheek. Sirius shook his head and slid off the top of the piano.

"What lessons have we got today?"

"It's Sunday."

Sirius thought of all the sleep he could get today. He also remembered the detention McGonagall had set yesterday. _Fuck going to that_ , he thought. It was time to sleep.

As a dog, sleeping on another surface could be comfortable, but being curled up on the piano as a boy left him feeling sore all over. Rolling his shoulder blades, he felt them click and he let out a breath.

"I knew it would be a killer this month. We should go to Dumbledore about the wolfsbane, too; that is _never_ to happen again."

"Such a fucking joke." James sighed, rubbing his eyes. He thought angrily about how much he wanted to scream at Dumbledore for not making sure Slughorn had created the batch correctly. It was the one thing the boys asked for.

James grumbled to himself for several more moments before struggling to stand. He managed it and went over to Remus' unconscious form on the rickety bed. The sheets had been changed as he was tangled up in them. The shack itself was cleaned by the Hogwarts house-elves, upon request by Dumbledore.

"Remus," Sirius said quietly, behind James. "Time to get up."

The two boys watched him groan and stretch. In the sunlight, his pale skin bared the scars and bruises. There was a great purple one running up his spine, a punishment his body had given him for not being ready to turn.

Remus reached out gingerly with a lanky arm, dragging the spare clothes to himself so he could shove something on. He was left with a little privacy when the other boys helped Peter awake.

He was already changed, on his feet and turning over his ruined shoes in his hands. They were caked in mud.

"Maybe it's karma for being so useless," he said regretfully.

James took out his wand. " _Scourgify_ ," he muttered and the dirt vanished. He clamped an arm around Peter's shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly.

The four of them left the room, much to the suffering of Remus. With James and Sirius on each side of him, Lupin nearly collapsed and was half-dragging himself down the stairs of the Shack. The jumper was a knitted biege, far too big for him so it hung on his skinny shoulders and exposed the scrapes along his neck.

It took a few moments for them to reach the end of the tunnel and Peter ran ahead. He let out a squeak and then the dull roar in the background disappeared.

"Thank you, Pete," Sirius said when he returned.

His wand slipped out his pocket accidentally and Peter hurried over to pick it up.

They all reached the blinding sunlight in time to feel a slight warmth. It made Sirius miss the comfort of his bedsheets and how most nights in their dormitory usually went; full of sweets, laughter and the crackling fire.

Remus suddenly lurched forward and retched. Nothing came out and he spat on the floor to rid himself of the need to vomit.

"Okay. It's alright," James said as he patted his back. "Just think of Pomfrey's beautiful face waiting for you. She'll make you feel better."

Remus squeezed his eyes together and shivered. "What do you think I'm so dramatic for?" He croaked and the boys supressed their laughs.

There was a time when Remus used to apologise for hours on end to his friends. He'd spend all night thinking about how much of a burden he'd become on their school time. It used to make him cry for hours - sometimes the weight on his chest was too much. It took Remus a long time to realise that just being their friend was all they wanted.

Sirius squeezed his eyes together and turned around to look at the sun again.

* * *

 ** _References:_** -

\- The inner thought of Isabelle saying that Alistair didn't understand there was a glass ceiling to break is a reference to the sociological theory of the glass ceiling effect. For those of you who don't take sociology it means there's an invisible barrier which makes it impossible for women to rise in their rank in society.

\- "If you'd have gone to a muggle school, you'd understand why I try so hard" is a reference to ME because if I was given the opportunity to go to Hogwarts after I've just finished 15 years of my own education, I sure as hell would!

\- "You laughter hit me like the lash of a hunting crop" is similar to a line in St Trinians. The dialogue in that movie is so funny, I had to share.

\- PRO-Keds are a 1949 brand and would've been a popular type of trainer to wear in the 1970s.

\- "Clarting around" is a West Midlands slang word for messing around (a reference to where Peter's family live because there's no information about it). It's not important but it's popular in Great Malvern, Worcestershire!

\- "I'll give you a bunch of fives" is a British saying for 'You're going to get punched in the face'.

* * *

 ** _Comments:_**

\- I'm trying to include 70s references because I've noticed that many marauders fanfictions forget that this era was at this time. They wore flared jeans and tunics, culottes and cowl neck sweaters (and bell bottoms!). This is a disclaimer to someone who messaged me saying that what Peter wore was ugly to envision - IT'S WHAT 70S TEENS WORE. Leave him alone:((

\- Also, there isn't much interaction between Sirius and Isabelle because he's never had to think about her until now and he still doesn't really care about her either at the moment I'M SORRY!

\- EllieDragon - Thank you so much! x

 _god bless thank you, please review and let me know what you think!_


	9. Queue the Training Montage

_author's note: so sorry this took so long! please review, please? I am begging for feedback x_

 _warning: does contain foul language._

 _Disclaimer: all place, characters and ideas belong to J.K Rowling. I own nothing except for Isabelle._

* * *

 _Chapter Nine: Queue The Training Montage_

* * *

 _Five Days Later_

The sun was warm. It had the potential to be warmer, but that would've defeated the point of you actually enjoying it.

Sirius opened his eyes in wake of it's glare. It took a moment for the brightness to dull in his vision and he focused on the great expanse of land ahead of him. The West Side of Hogwarts held the Viaduct, the Viaduct Courtyard and rolling hills that stretched up to meet forest.

There were a few students on the bridge, peering out of the arch windows and into the chasm below. In Sirius' first year, he spread the rumour of a great stone troll that lived at the bottom.

The lie had spread so fast that it wasn't just one, but whole herd of trolls who climbed up the rock-walls and crawled over the castle at night; stealing students away as they slept.

Clearly, Sirius' childhood legacy was dying out.

"Mr Black? Can I suggest bringing your attention back into the classroom?" Slughorn asked.

On the blackboard was a diagram of a Wicca alter. There was several perfected drawings of different ingredients that the class could choose to use in the potion - this branch of apothcary meant it was about more than just what was in it, but the expression of vocal magic.

Slughorn went back to drawing as he spoke. He sounded excited; advanced potions was his favourite.

"Wiccan is a branch of magic which you will be exploring in the next two years," he said. "It's mainly associated with Divination - the connection between Earth and the human soul. Wiccan celebrates the cycles of the moon and the sun which is why we created the wolfsbane and are creating the Aphrodisiac of Passion, today!"

"It's all terribly fun and is in the first section of your written exam in seven months. If anyone needs help with the spell, just ask!"

Sirius leaned his head on his hand, not offering any enthusiasm back to the professor. In his left hand, he held the quill and was slowly writing down the steps to his shared potion. It was for the fifth period written analysis. With any luck from a potential literary God, they could finish early.

"Four lacewing flies, two crushed salamander gills and..." James stumbled. "I think it was a gram of aconite... maybe – " mixing the potion quickly, he eyed it and shared a look with his friend "– I don't remember."

"Oh, good. When the final exam comes, what are you going to do if you forget?"

"Don't you mean, what will _we_ do?"

"Right. If you fail your exams, then so do I."

"'Course, man. This friendship doesn't come with an expiry date."

"Yeah, yeah. Did you put everything in, in order? I mean it – well, it looks like it's not a liquid anymore."

James' was red from the fumes. He dipped the end of his wand into the cauldron and scooped out a long, black squiggle of sludge. "Maybe it's meant to be chewed," he offered.

Grinning, Sirius looked over at their cauldron and nearly suffocated on the abhorrent stench emerging from their potion of passion.

"I'm feeling the passion," he said through his cloak sleeve. "That could bring something back from the dead."

Slughorn, who had began his turn about the classroom, overheard the boys. He shook his head at them and put his hand behind his back, peering at their potion.

"Need help, boys?" he asked.

James looked up. "Oh, no. We've got this under control."

"It appears you've added too much lacewing. From the texture and smell, I'd say counter-clockwise twice. You stir it any faster clockwise and it'll end up splattering the classroom!"

James grinned at the idea. "Well, then, I'll make sure _that_ doesn't happen."

"Good, good! Are you sure you don't want to restart the potion? Hiccups like this in psychological-based concoctions mean it ends up rather pitiful. And with all this extra revision you're getting Sirius, you should be accustomed to Isabelle Williams' company, no? I could just get–"

"No, no, Sir." Sirius said quickly, glancing at the Gryffindor girls. "Honestly, we'll sort it. I'm learning a lot, so we'll be fine."

Slughorn eyed him questionably. He'd obviously figured out long ago that Sirius was completely useless at the subject. Looking between the two boys for a moment longer, his face broke into a relieved smile.

"Well, if you say you've got it! Who am I, to question the judgement of a Black _and_ Potter?" He moved on hurriedly and started a deep conversation with Severus Snape about the state of his crushed prunes.

James looked at Isabelle. All the joking about her being a bint-bitch last week couldn't possibly be true? Maybe it was all just directed at Sirius. "You can't run from her all day. You've got revision, later," he said."

Sirius groaned loudly. "I forgot about that. Haven't done the essay or read over any work. Pretty sure she's predicted my T at the end of the year."

"You won't get a Troll. What is it really like spending time with her?"

"Complete nightmare. Don't ask. It'll put me in a bad mood for Quidditch."

"Jeez. I mean, do you think her personality is like Lily's, then? They're best mates. Aren't they similiar? I've never really got how it all works."

"No clue. I'm sort of reaching the point where I'm thinking girls are just another species to me."

"Thought you reached that point back in first year."

"Well, then I reached third year and found I needed girls for a few things. Can't ignore them forever."

James looked over to Lily Evans and frowned. He suddenly craved a cigerette. "Yeah, can't ignore them forever," he said.

"I have a question, Professor?" Isabelle Williams quipped at her table. Sirius watched and then shared a look with his friend. The potion in front of them suddenly began to smoke with a foul odour.

"I have a question, too." James looked at him expectantly with a large grin already posed on his face:

"Why _are_ we so shite?"

The pair began to howl with laughter.

Isabelle pushed the front curls back and put half her hair into a messy bun, relieving her hot face and sweaty neck. Slughorn had told her, her potion wasn't nearly heated enough, on the fire.

"Oh, Merlin, this humidity isn't good," she huffed, flickering the rest over her shoulders. Lily grinned, looking at the frizzy knots beginning to form on Isabelle's head. "But, your potion shall be," she said.

They pair set off into their work, flicking through the Book of Shadows with ease and finding it peculiar that they would have to learn incantations as well as potions - it all felt extraordinarily muggle to them. Each Wiccan spell reminded Isabelle and Lily of the movie they'd watched when they were seven. It had been a Rankin-Bass movie production where the witches used to chant ridiculous spells over a cauldron that spewed green.

Looking back at the representation of magic in the muggle world, it seemed quite laughable.

The other humourous moment the friends shared in their lesson was how several Hufflepuffs couldn't stop swooning after they inhaled their potion mid-brew without a protective mask.

"Isn't this technically a love potion?" Williams enquired.

"I s'pose. Not that I'd ever use one, I think they're quite foul, don't you?"

"Do you remember when Marlene gave that seventh year one back in third year and he followed her round for four days?"

They began to giggle, their cheeks turning pink with secondhand embarrassment.

"Godric! That was so awful. His hand had started to blister because he used to snog it so often, pretending it was her!"

Isabelle put a hand over her eyes. "Oh, I feel so bad for laughing."

"I don't," Lily said, fanning her warm face. "She shouldn't have done it."

It took a moment, but Isabelle saw Lily's point quickly. Her white teeth flashed in the wide smile, a loud laugh coming from the pair of them. Lily caught the eye of Severus, watching them, and her grin faded momentarily.

Isabelle glinted in his direction. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, everything's fine."

"Talking again?"

Lily shrugged, feeling tired suddenly. Their relationship had been the rockiest part of staring Sixth Year. "For now," she said.

* * *

At six o'clock that evening, the Quidditch Pitch was deserted; stands and all, except for the team of seven on one side.

Red and gold splattered their image. The team, despite all being exceptionally tall this year, looked tiny in comparison to the field. Remus looked at them all as he pushed his leather gloves on.

An ache ripped through his fingers from the nails.

"How we feeling, kids?" He asked loudly. A murmur of excited enthusiasm rippled in return.

Dragging the crate of Quidditch gear in front of the players, Sirius and James smiled broadly.

"Chip and chipper, ready to get on some rods, sir!" They laughed. The crate dropped into a puddle of mud, splashing their boots.

"Looks like you're all doused up, now, boys." Remus snorted. The others sniggered. "Right," Lupin said, "the first training session of the year, lads. And uh..."

Amelia Johnson snorted at him and waved off his stutter, uncaring and wanting to get going already. "Lads is fine," she said. "I'm not bothered."

Remus grinned, thankful to not be dealing with the simple nonsense of name calling. "Okay, then lads, the first session of the year and number one out of the thirteen until _our_ first match. Thirteen isn't enough. After Halloween it'll go up to two, and then three times a week."

There was a collective muted groan that took the form of awkward shuffling. Amelia thought quickly about her revision timetable as well as which Hogsmeade trips she'd be missing. She compressed it quickly, acknowledging that her captain had spent all summer creating a plan and it was wrong to get petty.

"Yeah, I get it," Lupin wavered. "It's gonna be hard and tough. Trust me. We're gonna train harder and longer than last year; we're gonna win this time."

"Are we training weekends?"

Remus looked at Paxton and clenched his teeth together. "Mornings, evenings, _and_ midnight to prepare for low vision - I've already asked Dumbledore for permission to do Sundays."

"Midnight, as well?"

Sirius rolled his eyes and shot the team a glare. "We're gonna train when we need to, we don't need any pussy-boys here. If you have a problem, then I'll have your broom and flog it in Hogsmeade. So, _is there a problem_?" The team shuffled awkwardly and grasped their brooms tighter.

"Hell no, Black," Alois said fiercely. "Just checkin' we're not slacking this year."

Remus, cunningly quiet as he observed his team, couldn't stop the tilt of his lips into a smirk. "Did you think we slacked last year, Alois?"

Alois met his gaze. "'Course not, Lupin. Everyone seems to be stepping their game up now, just thought we would be, too."

Something surged in the Gryffindors. Today was a day to make their final mistakes, to crash and fall off their brooms, or test their boundaries. They wanted to leave injured because it meant they'd come away with proof of their bravery.

A storm began overhead and the Pitch remained deserted, because no one in their right mind would willingly go outside in that weather. Except Quidditch players.

Remus bent down and unlocked the crate, taking in the rattling image of the blunger. With an over-arm throw, it went soaring and was followed by the kludgers and golden snitch.

James itched to start, sharing a grin with his two friends before swinging a leg over his broom.

"Let's queue the training montage," he said.

"Start flying," Remus instructed. "Keep going until I tell you to stop."

Apparently, not one of them intended to come away sodden and clean of mud by the time dinner came.

* * *

Bundling up her books, Isabelle Williams set off from her dormitory to the Library. It was nearing the time to meet Sirius, but she had a habit of going early.

On her way out of the room, she nearly collided with the quivering form of Millicent Gygars, staring at the portrait of Ser Jaime, again.

"Millie, let's leave the knight alone. Shall we go and sit by the fire?"

"Oh, no. No, no, he's left me."

"Come on, Mils."

Millicent dabbed her cheek, her eyes as large as saucers. Williams peered at the painting. In the middle of the portrait was a golden crown, one that belonged to a maiden portrait from the seventh floor. "We say a kiss on the hand might feel very good, but a diamond tiara last forever." Millicent said.

Isabelle suddenly felt guilty for being pushy. Millicent's temperament was precious and delicate, she should've known better than to treat her so forcefully.

"Come on, Lorelei," Isabelle said softly, placing her free hand to her back.

It took a slight push for Millicent to leave the space at the top of the stairs. She went into a haze, not seeing the second years who had been poking fun at her the entire time.

Isabelle put her middle finger up at them when they attempted to follow and they retreated back up the steps.

Once settled in a chair by the fire, Isabelle hurriedly ransacked the bookcase in the common room for magazines she'd stashed away for times like this. Her eyes found one and she ushered it into Millient's hands, aiding her friend with coming back to the world of reality.

Lily Evans appeared through the portrait door. Her eyes found her friends.

"What's wrong?" she asked, putting her books down and crouching at Gygars' feet. "Do you think we'll have to take her to Pomfrey, again?"

"No, no. She's not too far gone, this time anyway. It was just a scare with the knight upstairs, she gets attached too easily."

"Hey, Millie? Millie, look at what we got for you. It's Marilyn in your favourite interview. Look here she is talking about your favourite colour..."

Marlene McKinnon came through the portrait ay that moment, followed by a group of third years. She had been escorting them to and from Divination as part of a student welfare scheme McGonagall had posted on the board. This week, it was Marlene's job to help students in need.

"Now, you lot go and tell the Professor what a bloody angel I am and how I'm the sweetest flower in the whole garden," she cawed at them.

"Is that an owl?" One of them squinted at the window. "Isn't that the owl that crashed into the breakfast table last week?

McKinnon went slightly pale, but tried to remain unaffected. "Absolutely not," she said with a distinct chill in her voice. The Gryffindors looked back to the object and quickly realised the bird wasn't stopping.

Follet flew through the open window and crashed into the wall beside the stairs for the dormitories. He landed in a heap and let out a defeated _hoot._

"Fuck's sake," Marlene growled, glaring at the letter in Follet's crumpled foot which had her name in large letters. The third years stared at it with wide eyes. "Well then?" Marlene cawed at them. "Sort him out! I don't show you round for fun!"

Snorting, Isabelle looked back to Millicent and gave her a warm smile. She was contently reading Which Witch? and had ceased crying. As usual, the page was open on an article of her favourite movie star.

"Will you be alright whilst I go to revision?"

Millicent's eyes had glazed over with the familiar content that meant anything else in the world didn't particularly matter anymore. She looked up at Isabelle and her lips turned up into a childlike smile.

"Why, of course, Belle," she said wistfully. "You take your time and do not worry for me."

Millie placed a hand over Isabelle and squeezed it, before retreating it back to the page on which Marilyn Monroe was smiling up at her.

Sometimes it was difficult to relate to Millicent, everyone knew that. But what many forgot was that it was misunderstanding mistaken for understanding when it came to her character. She changed often; fell into different personas frequently, but would always go back to being wistful, childlike and Gryffindor.

That was what occupied Isabelle for most of her journey through the corridors.

The walk from the Tower didn't take long. Unlike last weekend, a lot of the students were still out of bed and running around. Most of the ghosts were out, in deep conversation with one another and the teachers; who were lighting fireplaces and warming the air.

Filch was by the great clock-pendulum, a mop in hand as he scrubbed aggressively at the mud all over the floor. He was muttering to himself as Mrs Norris watched.

Taking several lefts, Isabelle arrived at her destination and pushed her back against the door. She settled in her usual spot and spread a couple of fiction books out.

 _Sirius would be late and that was something I'd have to get used to_ , she thought just as the oak door creaked open.

Looking up from her book, her surprise quickly burned out.

Sirius waltzed into the library with a smug grin on his face. He pushed a hand through his soaking curls and shook his head like a dog, sending Madam Pince's retreating form a wink.

She would've slapped him if she'd been looking.

He reached Isabelle and stood at the foot of the table, waiting for her to lose it. She looked him up and down with a stone-cold expression, fighting to remain unaffected by his appearance.

If he dared to think she would give into his stupidity...

 _Not - bloody - likely._

"Aren't you forgetting something?" She asked, hautily placing her book down.

Dropping his sodden broom to the floor, he grinned broadly. "Oh right," he said. Isabelle's eyes looked down at his sports gear and then to his hand as it reached into his muddy robes and took out a long quill. Unlike everything else on him, it was clean.

"Almost did!" He said happily. "Phew, that was a close one."

Sirius flopped down into the chair and folded his arms over his chest, eyes meeting her hateful ones. She gritted her teeth.

"Anything else?"

"Oh, yes. Let's move this tat," he exhaled, faking impatience. Sirius took ahold of a bundle of her reading books with his filthy hands and shoved them aside to Isabelle's disraught.

"What are you doing? Careful with those!"

Sirius blinked. "I am being careful."

"No. _You_ shoved them away."

"Well, I was as careful as possible. Which to your standard may not be very careful, because you can be quite uptight about these little things, but I'm willing to move on with the _little things_ and start afresh?"

Isabelle could think of a few _little things_ she'd happily set on fire.

"Did you do your essay?" she asked coldly, rummaging through her bag. His silence nearly made her eyes roll into the back of her head.

"You left your notebook last week. Here it is. If you leave it, you lose it as well as your grade – which, it might surprise you, but I don't actually care about that."

Sirius tilted his head, watching her pull out parchment and her OWL notes.

"You're lying," he said. "You do care about my care grade."

"No, I don't. I care about my job at the Ministry."

"But Slughorn told me that I need an Outstanding or they won't accept you at all. I think I deserve a bit more respect now." Isabelle looked up from her school equipment. "Did that worry you?" he smiled, "oh, yes, Williams, your future relies on _me_."

They shared a look. Isabelle's mind flashed towards the end of year exams as she waited for him to finish assessing his hold over her.

"So, on a scale of one to ten-" Sirius leaned forward, wetting the parchment with rain drops from his hair, "- _how fucked are you_?"

"Don't you dare threaten me. I'll find other ways of getting my job, this is just a hiccup. You're just a bump in this long and dark road Slughorn's sent me down."

"Looks like it's gonna be a long and dark night, if anything. Might as well get started instead of bickering. I know how you can unhinge your mouth like a snake and talk for hours."

Fuming, Isabelle nearly crushed all of her teeth together, clenching her jaw.

"Page seven," she hissed. "Write fast."

Sirius watched her point to the book with her finger acting like a hot poker and she offered few kind words.

As such, the following three hours were long and tedious. The silence led to Isabelle fighting to hide her worry. Sirius had forced her to waver from a path of normality and she couldn't comprehend the idea of not being in control.

All she ever need to succeed was herself and now a thick-headed bint had tore it all apart.

Completely forgetting about the essays and homework, she carried onto the next section of the module and planned out several physical potions lessons as he jotted down notes and read them aloud (that was always how she remembered things). Every so often, his disgusting robes would brush over his paper and scuff the writings with wet mud.

Isabelle wrinkled her nose at the smell of rain water, dirt and sweat that came with the papers Sirius had written out. He handed them over to be put into a folder and to be marked by her.

She decided against bothering to do the latter.

"Later, Williams," Sirius said. He hoisted his Quidditch bag over his shoulder and tucked his quill back into his robes, before strolling back out of the Library.

Isabelle waited until she was alone until she leaned over and retrieved her books from the chair, to which, Sirius had dumped them. Holding them in her hands was difficult they were all thick and expensive - hardback and leather-bound versions she'd saved for.

The first on the pile was The Picture of Dorian Gray. But the first thing she noticed was different, was the grit beneath her fingers. Mud caked the side of each book and several finger-prints.

Her heart swelled with pain and self-pity. " _Tergeo_ ," she chanted, presenting herself with clean books.

Despite it's cleanliness, her mood had slipped into a severe battle of hatred and reclusion. Chewing her bottom lip, she hurriedly shoved everything into her bag and to which her mood followed her to sleep and soon disappeared to welcome dreams.

* * *

 _ **References:**_

\- Sunlight: I read a poem by Hafiz and I love imagery around the weather, so I wanted to link it to Sirius. The poem is:

 _"Even a_ _fter  
_ _All this time  
_ _The Sun never says to the Earth,_

 _"You owe me."_

 _Look  
_ _What happens  
_ _With a love like that,  
_ _It lights the whole sky."_

 _\- Wicca_ is a modern form of paganism and it is quite popular so when I mention it, I mention with complete respect and admiration for it - the folklore of Wicca is extremely interesting to me and if I've offended anyone I apologise wholeheartedly and will change it.

\- The Rankin-Bass movie Isabelle remembers watching is one called _Mad Monster Party_ which was on in 1966 around Halloween, I watched it when I was quite young as well so there!

\- Millicent's "We say a kiss on the hand..." ".." are from the movie 'Gentlemen Prefer Blondes', it's just a bit of development on Millie's interests and her character.

 _ **Comment:**_ _I saw this on a Game of Thrones fanfiction a few years ago, but the author has since deleted the story so I couldn't find the author to thank:( here you go:_

 _ **Isabelle's Ambience:**_

 _Priscilla Ahn - Dream_

 _Kanye west - Frank's track_

 _Madilyn Bailey - She Wolf_

 _Jake Isaac - Waiting Here_

 _Benjamin Francis Leftwich - Atlas Hands_


	10. I'm Smoking While I'm Runnin'

_warning: contains drug use gore mention sensual themes._

 _Disclaimer: all place, characters and ideas belong to J.K Rowling. I own nothing except for Isabelle._

 _Chapter Ten: I'm Smoking While I'm Runnin'_

* * *

 _Meet me on the fifth floor,_

 _Alistair._

Isabelle crushed the slip of parchment in her hand and looked up.

Meeting him in the prefect's bathroom late at night was risky. But, somehow he always made sure they were alone.

Up above her head, were two great glass-stained windows. Even the merpeople had disappeared. The mirror she was stood in front of was rimmed with a gold frame and she felt as if she disappeared in her own reflection.

In the circular room, the bath was running behind her. The white bubbles blossomed up, illuminating her form.

She's ornamented her natural attributes carefully for tonight: gold and topaz to emphasise the shading of her flesh, a shining choker to offset her dark hair. It was when she made an effort this way, that Alistair really paid attention.

He was running a hand through his damp hair, having bathed waiting for her to meet him. The peach and crisp vanilla made Isabelle feel slightly nauseous, but she looked at him in the reflection with numb sensuality.

She stood in her image, staring at her reflection with numb sensuality. Behind her, Alistair ran a hand through his hair and and walked up to press himself against her back. He smelt of iris and sage flower.

Something warm blossomed in the pit of her stomach. She felt the hairs on her arms prickle with an electrified chill.

Alistair could feel her breathing, her racing heart. He was reminded of an adrenaline she used to have, the way she used to cower away from kisses and the rapidity of intimacy. Isabelle was holding him by the front of the shirt, her face against his shoulder.

Drawing back, she looked up at him. Meeting his gaze steadily in the moonlight. Her brown eyes turned an illuminated golden ray, enroaching a golden eclipse that most didn't see – still, Alistair's heart remained steady.

He realised that Isabelle savoured these moments, herself, for when they were alone. And he daren't let himself push too far, not dare let go because she would retreat.

Alistair leaned down and touched her hot, opened lips gently. She held her breath, but did not push her mouth any closer. It was all an innocent game, nearly ignorant, wasting so much time when the world outside manifested; grew in a way no one was prepared for.

Isabelle kissed Alistair back. He could taste spearmint.

It made him crave more. How did she always taste that way? He pushed her back and pushed a hand into her hair, tangling his fingers in. The skin on Isabelle's neck erupted in tingles.

But she knew what he wanted at that point.

"Can we just wait?" Isabelle asked, her voice soft as if she'd just hand came up to press against his chest. Alistair reared back, his lips slightly red. He frowned at her.

"Why?"

"Well, I–I don't know why we have to keep rushing. I like just standing here with you."

Alistair closed his eyes for a moment. Frustration crept into his hands, but he pulled them away from her top and placed one to her cheek.

"You really are one of a kind," he murmured and leaned down, his lips grazing her ear.

He kissed her and the world fell away. It was slow and soft, not as comforting as it once was, but enough. His thumb caressed her cheek as their breaths mingled. Running her fingers down his spine, she pulled him closer until their was no space and his beating heart hit hers.

Isabelle trembled and closed her eyes, she was right. She'd end up back at Gryffindor Tower earlier than she'd hoped.

In fact, by the the pair departed each others company, it was Peter they'd run into outside the common room. Isabelle kissed Ali goodbye and went inside without realising how much the other Gryffindor detested the Hufflepuff's presence.

When Peter hurried up to his dormitory, he was red and fuming.

"Bloody Anscombe. Bloody... absolute – what a tosser," he hissed, aggressively making his bed. He punched his pillow and rattled the duvet. The three others in the room looked at him with wide eyes.

James chewed on a rice cake. "Bad breakfast, was it?" he asked.

"Anscombe just told me our flying was shit and we're going to lose the game." There was an accompaniment of groans from all of them and disgusted glares.

"Yeah well I'll show him losing–" James snapped, whilst Sirius and Remus mumbled strings of incoherent curses.

"He said the next time we see one another will be when he uses the cup to 'bash our Gryffindor heads in'."

Sitting up straighter, James clenched his right fist around the magazine in his hand. "I'm gonna fuckin' kill him. Is he still down there? No one threatens any of us, Pete."

"You should've hexed him." Sirius snapped. "I'll hex Williams tonight instead. Send him a message."

Peter looked appalled. He blinked quickly as if choking. "What–? Sirius, no, don't. She wasn't even there. She doesn't know what he's like."

Sirius passed a slip of paper to Remus and rolled his eyes at the thought. "She probably does. Williams can't be that naive."

"Well I – I think she is. He's a complete arse, yet she's been with him for years."

However, they were never overly public with their relationship. You wouldn't have guessed they were together unless you caught them in the prefect bathroom at God-forsaken hours. James noted Peter's consistent mention of Isabelle Williams and said: "Maybe you should try save her Pete. Have we got a little crush going on here? Christmas in a couple months, maybe you'll get something under the mistletoe."

"Literally, shut up. I told you before what happened last time I kissed a girl."

James rolled onto his side and looked at his friends. They shared a look. "It's not your fault you vomited all over her," he said.

"That was because of the firewhiskey."

"But you still didn't like the snog."

"Yeah, guess it's just not for me. I can't really explain it."

"Don't worry 'bout it. Sex isn't a need, you know? But, I guess you can feel like you're dying if you don't have it."

Remus snorted. He held a pen in one hand and the other was occupied with substance abuse. "And how do you know that people don't die from lack of it?" he grinned.

"They do die. But, if Peter doesn't like it, then I guess he's in the clear."

Sirius laughed loudly beneath the magazine. "That's not true, idiot."

"Yes, it is!"

"Nah. If it was, you wouldn't be alive either."

James shot him a dirty look, but his red cheeks set his friend off into a laughing fit. They lazily slumped on one another's bunks, flicking through magazines and passing a lit blunt of muggle class B. Their first period had been cut in half, after several Professors were called to a meeting.

Remus was scribbling down revision notes as he inhaled a drag and allowed the smoke to dribble out of his mouth like a cloud of running water over his lips. Opposite him, Peter ripped apart old chocolate frog cards in a fit of poorly surpassed rage.

"I wish Kettleburn hadn't just ditched," Remus input. "I was going to ask about Redcaps."

Sirius drooled sarcastically: "yes, it is such a pity. Watch it, I might just start crying at the thought of leaving a lesson early."

"You can take the piss, but I'll be passing my NEWTs."

"I'll be passing you on the road to not giving a fuck."

"You know, your profanity is beginning to really affect my hearing. Can you swear any louder?"

Sirius laughed. "Why yes, I F-"

" _Alright_ , Pads. Keep it down," Peter said, chucking a handful of crumpled sweet wrappers at him. "The portraits outside like to talk. Dumbledore could hear that you're being too loud and then we'd all get detention."

"Nah, he probably swears just as much. I bet that beard is a bitch to comb, got to cause some words to slip out."

Roaring with laughter for the remainder of their free periods, the boys slipped into comfortable haze; creating a room full of drugged smoke and Sirius' _Creedance Clearwater Revival's_ 'Green River' record.

There was suddenly a harsh rapping on the door, followed by a bustle of childish laughter and calls for Lupin.

"Oh, fuck. Christ, open the window." Remus choked. Leaping out of his chair, his long legs caught on the chair and sent him tumbling over, papers went flying and Sirius began to snort unattractively. The three of them watched, howling as Remus hurried over to the window and nearly smashed the pane, latch as well as himself. The blunt was flung out of the window and he flapped his arms to get the smoke out.

"It's my bloody tutoring students!" He said, scandalised. "I'm gonna get fucking expelled."

Sirius, his face contorted with great amusement, asked: "has the calm demeanour worn off? I didn't even get any."

"Shut it, Pads. That was my last bit from home, as well. We're gonna have to go to Hogsmeade."

James sniggered. "'Course. Someone's also eaten all the chocolate cauldrons."

Peter went red. "Anyway," he brashly said. "What lesson, is it?"

"Divination. I think it's tea leaves again."

"Wait! Wait," Sirius said quickly. He squeezed his eyes together and looked as if he were in pain. "My leaves tell me I'm going to have a minty afternoon, with a splash of camomile dinner and jasmine tea desert."

"Jasmine tea?" Remus asked. Since when did he pay any attention to exotic teas or middle-upper class etiquette?

"Or something-bullshit. Williams had a cup with her a couple weeks ago and it reeked."

Sirius pointed to the smoke still lingering by the ceiling of their dorm. "This stinks, too."

The boys nodded in agreement. Not one of them liked the smell of the drug, it was a small part of the world that made them feel like they made a difference in it.

* * *

At the end of the day, Sirius headed for the Library once again. He'd changed from his Quidditch gear, thinking that the joke had worn off and if he didn't find it funny anymore, then clearly it had done it's job and didn't need to be dragged out.

In the short space of time he had, he thought about how little he'd seen of Regulus and of howlers from Black Manor. It was unlikely his mother had forgotten about muggle studies, the bitch was obsessed.

He pondered it still as he slumped back into his chair and mumbled a greeting to Isabelle; punctual as ever and with her books laid out in front of him. When he eyed her, all he could envision was Peter being threatened by Alistair whilst she stood and laughed.

"Chapter two," she said pointedly. "Rising and falling."

"Mhm." Sirius flicked a broken piece of nail to his side. Isabelle remained oblivious and coughed.

"So, mood potions are really important in the exam. There's definitely going to be three or four questions on them. I've booked Slughorn's classroom for November to practise a couple.

Now, there's two different types of mood potions in OWLs. There's five in NEWT, because of love potions and all that... We'll do the recipe, ingredients, story and _then_ the conclusion."

"Can't wait," Sirius mumbled.

Isabelle's hearing picked up a scratching noise. It was him picking at the corner of the table, his face down and bored.

" _'A less than subtle drought for remedying a overexerted mood or ill-hearted one, are the brother potions created by Melampus. These rising and falling potions were at the peak of distribution from 1315 to 1317. This was the time The Great Famine - witches and wizards eagerly searched for a potion to push them through this terrible era'_." She asked him to repeat the paragraph, which he did with a little less enthusiasm.

"Now, gliding means silver spark which connotes to happiness and joy. You know? Sort of like euphoric."

"And guldur means dark."

"It does. That's good you know it. Did you do some reading, like I asked?"

"Oh, no. Merlin, no. I remembered it."

"Well I... really?"

Sirius bit into his nail and flicked it somewhere. "Yeah, we nicked some from Slughorn in second year, gave it to Snape and he burst into tears during the exam. Do you remember it?"

"No. I don't remember."

"Are you sure? 'Swear you sat behind him during that." He said tentatively. Isabelle flicked her hair over her shoulder and ignored him. If Lily were here she would've given Sirius a look so dirty, he might as well have buried himself.

" _Shrivelfig is one of the most important ingredients in both potions. The finest shrivelfig specimens are found in Abyssinia_. Write down this part down, _here_."

Sirius looked from Isabelle's hand and to his parchment. He began scribbling down what she told him to. Patiently, she waited and looked elsewhere so he didn't feel awkward with her gawping at his work.

As she stared at the vacant library, she thought about the exam Sirius had mentioned. It had been a fourth year one and Isabelle felt so terrible afterwards that she teared up listening to Lily tell her about how embarrassed Severus had been.

"Yeah, I'm done," Sirius said.

Isabelle sat back up and looked down at his work silently:

 _Leaves: The fragrant leaves of the Shrivelfig possess certain medicinal properties._

 _Fruit: The fruit of the Shrivelfig is actually the flower—the blossom grows inside the fruit._

 _Roots: The roots of the Shrivelfig are aggressive in their grip on the earth, helping the plant to thrive even in the most unwelcoming environments._

His writing wasn't what she expected. A polite cursive was what littered the page in front of her, with looped letters and penmanship.

"Okay," she coughed and handed it back. "Well done. The incantation is next. Personally, I find the incantation really difficult, and Scottish Gaelic doesn't fit the original rhyme of it's English version. Instead, I sing it to _King Harvest_."

"Which one?"

"Dancing in the Moonlight."

"You gonna show me how?"

Isabelle went slightly red at the thought. She laughed and shook her head. "Oh, no," she said.

"Come on. I won't judge, give me a sing."

"No, way, Black. _That_ is social suicide. Just figure it out as homework."

"Only if that's the only homework you set."

He was so infuriating. Isabelle gave him a look, but conceded immediately to save herself any embarrassment. "Yes. Yes, fine."

Sirius sat up a little straighter with a smile. Like some sort of rewarded dog.

"Anyway, it's in Scottish Gaelic because that's where the Melampus comes from. And no, before you say something, there's no such thing as Scotland Gaeland, or whatever."

Sirius ground his teeth together. Something inside of him ticked with dislike. "You know, I'm not stupid."

She ignored him and read out the next passage. "Repeat this for me: _Dùbailte, dùbailte, saothair 's dragh loisg a theines, goil a choire_."

Sirius was used to hearing Latin, Greek, Italian and French. He repeated Isabelle with little issue and ignored her falter of shock, despite feeling as if he'd achieved something. The thought that also plagued him was where he'd been for half the Potions classes last year, it was befuddling.

"Good. That's really good," Isabelle commented, flicking to the other page. "Origins now. So, the story goes... oh, wait, do you want to read this yourself? I don't mind." Sirius shook his head and rested it on his palm.

"Okay, so the story goes: ' _Once there was a witch travelling west, across the sea. Named Circe, she was a grand sorceress who met a traveller coming from the East, Melampus. The two fell in love and grew old together. However, as time progressed Melampus was unable to deny how little they had in common and sought a potion for her to indulge. For fifteen days and nights...'_ note that down, Black _. 'For fifteen days and nights, he concocted one and gave her a glass._

 _The following day, Melampus woke to her singing and dancing through the house, she enjoyed everything he did which grew his happiness. But she became overly happy, never sleeping or listening to a word he said. She laughed at the sight of death and smiled at beggars on the street._

 _Melampus drafted another potion, one darker to balance out Circe's joy. The gulder potion was slipped into her drink and when he awoke, he found her curled up beside him. In relief, he went about his day and returned to find her in bed still. Melampus had mistaken her calmness for normality'_."

Sirius looked up from his parchment. "So, he slept next to a dead woman. _Did_ he kill her?"

Isabelle shook her head. "Give me a few more lines. _'Melampus mistook her calmness for normality. She had been crying all day, and did not move for weeks after that. She did not sing, or dance, did not sleep, or eat. Melampus looked at the saddened wither of his wife and was trying to brew another potion when he found her hung body in their cellar._

 _Except, Circe's body did not rot like others. Her skin turned crisp and tarnished, as if mould grew from within. Her beautiful face faded into ugliness and she looked so gruesome, that Melampus took his own life days later'._ "

Having read the story several times before, Isabelle was reminded that it was the worst one she'd ever heard when her eyes found the final lines. She chewed her bottom lip and fought to expel Circe's mangled corpse from her mind as well as the tragic morals.

Sirius felt slightly ill at the thought of decay. He swallowed taste of sick in his mouth and leaned back onto the table. "So then," he started. Isabelle interrupted: "Chapter summary next."

"Wait, wait." He argued. " _That_ was the reason for the potions? How do I remember all of it?"

"It'll be another two marker. On some past papers I did last year, I found the question is usually what the recommended dosage is. Melampus gave Circe too much, so you need a teaspoon of it."

Scribbling down her words, Sirius repeated it in his head three times. "A teaspoon. A teaspoon. _A teaspoon_ ," he then said. Isabelle gave him a look. Sirius looked affronted.

"What? I'm trying to remember it. You're a bit judgemental for someone who wants to be a teacher, you know."

"I was going to say that using blue ink will help you remember, too. But if you're that eager to jump down my throat, then I won't bother next time."

Letting out a mutter of curse words, Sirius bent his head lower and nearly snapped the quill tip off. He didn't pay attention when Isabelle's pet joined them, or when she read out some more. After a few moments of him being unresponsive, he sat up and watched Isabelle with a bored look.

Eris mewled beside her and stretched his paws out. The leather chair was a perfect fit for him, he was smaller than most bobcats but bigger than an actual feline. Isabelle scratched the fur on his belly which caused him to let out a satisfied purr.

"Isn't it illegal to have him?" Sirius blurted.

"Mm, what?" She asked distractedly. Sirius looked at Eris with pointed eyes.

"He's not a cat. How did you manage to keep him?"

"Eris was being illegally traded, when I realised he wasn't even a kneazle I went to Dumbledore and he said he'd grown fond of seeing him round the castle. Eris has never hurt anyone, so he's allowed."

Watching the creature, Sirius tried to suppress his adamant dislike for any type of cat and lifted a hand. Eris' beady eyes locked onto him and swiped a paw.

Grinning widely, Isabelle pulled Eris to her and began blabbering like a baby. Sirius cast her a dirty look which she caught.

"He's such a good boy, isn't he?" she cradled and looked back at Eris. "Aren't you? Aren't you a good boy?"

"Merlin..." Sirius muttered, repulsed. Was the revision session over yet? Isabelle's hand was still on her pet as she looked back at the Gryffindor with gleaming satisfaction.

"He doesn't like dogs," she said.

Sirius' blood went cold. "D-Dogs?"

"Yes. Marlene overheard you calling me a cow, so you're a dog. Unless you want to be an arse? I can adapt."

He slumped back into his seat and let his head roll back to hit the chair. "That girl's ears are the size of an elephant's, I swear..."

"What was that?"

Lifting his head, he met her narrowed eyes. "Nothing," he muttered.

"Mm, thought so."

There was some more rustling as she sorted through his notes. He'd written quite a bit and she found herself missing something from it all. "Did you do your homework?" She asked.

Sirius' hand lazily reached into his bag, digging it out without looking away from her. If she was challenging him in proving another point on his stupidity, she would be the one looking foolish.

He tilted his head at her mockingly, presenting the sheets to her. "Bet you thought I didn't do it."

"Yeah, you're right," she said. "I didn't think you'd do it."

"I am full of surprises."

"What is this?" She turned it around and stared in complete horror at the raunchy drawing. Her mouth dropped open and she dropped it, scandalised. "You are disgusting!"

Sirius blinked, confused and picked up his work. "Oh, I," he snorted and began to giggle. "Well, I think it's quite easy to tell what it is. I must've gotten it mixed up with my essays. Oh, shit, I hope I gave McGonagall the right work, too."

"That is foul! Who draws _that_!"

"I drew it, thought we'd cleared that up."

"I bet you gave it to me purposely. That's such a _you_ thing to do."

"I didn't! Wait, what? A _me_ thing? 'The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you're just as rancid as you always have been. Honestly, you're sixteen, when are you going to learn to grow up?"

" _'Grow up'_? I'm not the one damn-near fainting at the sight of a nudity. Might not have occurred to you, but you look like this, too!"

Isabelle put a hand against her chest, her cheeks going red with embarrassment. "How dare speak to me that way! And for the record, I'm not covered in tattoos with a cigar hanging from my mouth and hair sprouting from every inch of my body."

"Oh, please. Don't paint me a physical picture or I may vomit all over my art."

"Art? You call that art?"

"Well, yeah, I do. 'Cause I drew it; whilst having a laugh with my mates and not being a stuck-up poncy cow."

"Am I interrupting something?" a voice appeared beside the table.

Isabelle looked up in surprise and choked at the sight of Slughorn. "I," she stuttered. "We were–"

"No sir." Sirius said clearly. "You were interrupting nothing at all. Just the usual _laughable_ conversation we share every week."

Slughorn raised an eyebrow. "Well, indeed. If you say so, Black. I just popped in to see how my students are doing. I don't mean to alarm, but there's been a bit of confusion at the Ministry at the moment and the letter of recommendation I've sent has gotten lost in all the cafuffle."

"Sir?" Isabelle questioned, wondering what this meant for her.

"Oh, it's nothing enormous. I'll just write another. Just thought I'd let you know. This usually happens, it being so enormous and all."

"Why did it happen this time?"

"Well I – I really think... it's all rather boring, my boy."

"I don't mind. What happened?"

"Some letters are being intercepted by you know... wizards who don't abide by the law. It's nothing to worry about."

"Someone's hijacking information about wizards?"

"Well I suspect... not. It's nothing to worry about. Come on now, you should be concentrating on Potions not petty things."

Sirius' deep frown met Slughorn's awkward smile and he returned a large grin. "You're right. Just curious, Sir."

"No harm being thoughtful about the Wizarding Community! I hope to hear great tales, however, about your progress from Miss Williams! On you get."

Isabelle smiled up at him and nodded. "Sir," she bid as a goodnight. He plodded off without another word or mention of anything else.

When the two Gryffindors looked back at one another, they met in a similiar gaze of confused need for more information. However, Isabelle quickly looked back down and did not attempt to look bothered. She picked up Sirius' new parchment and began reading.

A political debate with him was something she did not want. He would say something stupid that would make her head hurt and they'd both leave each others company in terrible moods.

After a heartbeat of silence, Sirius stopped chewing his nails and gave Isabelle another look. "How did I do, then?" he asked.

"Uh, good," she nodded. "So far, it seems like you know what you're talking about. Is this copied from the textbook?"

"Which bit?"

"Where it says: turn to page fifty-two for further reading'?"

"What? Wait, I actually wrote that?"

"I'm joking. But be careful next time."

Sirius rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers and exhaled, "sure."

Isabelle's hand brushed over the paper again, feeling the indents of his hard quill writing. It must've been rushed, the point had nearly gone straight through. Regardless, he'd done homework and despite copying from the book, at least he'd read a book. It was probably pushing it when it came to his capabilities with literature.

As usual, Sirius left first and Isabelle a little bit after. They both prayed Peeves wasn't en route.

* * *

 _References:_

 _\- The Chapter Name_ – from the Lana del Rey song 'in my feelings' got me feelin' ALLLL the Sirius Black feelings - think it sets the tone well.

\- "Not daring, not daring let himself go" is from Vladimir Nabokov's _'Lolita'_ a lot of similiar themes between Ali Isabelle here.

\- _gilding_ _guldur_ potion are translations of Sindarin for _silver spark_ _dark sorcery_. Sindarin is one of the Elvish languages in Tolkien's Middle Earth.

\- Potions ingredients and info I got from a pdf of _Zygmunt Budge's Book of Potions._

\- **Circe** is a goddess of magic in Greek Mythology.

\- **Melampous** was a legendary soothsayer and healer in Greek Mythology.

\- " _dùbailte, dùbailte, saothair 's dragh loisg a theine, 's goil a choire"_ is a Scottish Gaelic translation Macbeth's Witches' dialect!

* * *

 _Comments:_

I STARTED UNIVERSITY AND IT IS STRESSFUL!

\- _Choco-Latte64_ \- omfg I CANNOT EXPRESS HOW MUCH I LAUGHED AND SMILED AT YOUR COMMENT. bless you babe, thank you so so much for reading! xx

\- _Tennismaniac19_ \- Hello! Thank you so much for reviewing and reading! xx


	11. Muddy Waters

_Disclaimer: all place, characters and ideas belong to J.K Rowling. I own nothing except for Isabelle._

 _Chapter Eleven: Muddy Waters_

* * *

 _October 30th 1976 –_ _Dumbledore's Office_

The Transfiguration professor was flushed with upset, confusion and frustration. Her usually perfected hair was threatening to spring free of its tight bun, unable to fight against the manic movement of her rushing around.

"We must stop this madness, Albus." Minerva cried. "Ten years ago when that boy was murdered and we, well, we all saw the mark in the sky. That was the beginning, wasn't it?" Her eyes darted to her superior. "It isn't a coincidence that the numbers have started to increase."

"Yes. Yes, it is a cause for concern, Minerva." Slughorn murmured.

" _Concern_? If only our minister were concerned as well! The missing names are at the back; in the tiniest column! The names of the muggle-born family are not once mentioned either."

Albus stared at the fire, where the Minister of Magic had just been. Her stern glare, cruel eye and fierce voice cast fear in many, but he found her rather overbearing. It was never the presence of a person that marked the Headmaster, but the contents of their words.

The other professors in the room were still taken aback. Kettleburn and Slughorn stood wringing their hands together, casting nervous glances around the room. The Astronomy professor was chewing on a cosmic cluster, here eyes wide.

These were the few Dumbledore had chosen to attend the meeting.

"Albus, we have to cancel the trip."

There was a beat of silence.

"No. No, we shall not cancel Hogsmeade."

Minerva McGonagall went beetroot red. She stood up from her chair and stormed around the desk. "Oh, I think not, Albus. First, I allowed the Ministry guards scaring all of the students at the start of term, _then_ I allowed Quidditch without supervision, but this is too far."

"It is not too far. The trip shall be today, Minerva."

Slughorn nearly dropped his tea. "Albus!" he gasped. "What about my classes?"

"You have your first and second years."

"Why not just cancel it altogether? The threat is still there. What if they assume we would change the day? The children are in danger."

Dumbledore didn't reply. He thought the idea was absurd, if the rumours were true then surely he should know nothing at all.

"There will not be an attack today."

"I really don't believe–"

"Believe in what exactly, Minerva? Me?"

"Well, I, no. Albus, I don't trust in the world outside of Hogwarts. In here they are safe!"

"In here, they are prisoners. Hogsmeade is a justified mean escapism for them. Nothing can take away the joy of freedom. They will attend, and lessons will resume as normal Monday morning."

The room's sudden suffocating atmosphere evaporated. The professors exhaled, feeling the intensity of their conversation deminish. Minerva pursed her thin lips together and stared at Albus."

"Horace. Amalthea, Silvanus, please see to it that your houses have their noticeboards changed. And there's a list of professors to travel with the students today; see to it they're aware at breakfast."

They stared at his back, bewildered, but silent. But the interests of the students were at the heart of it's headmaster and with deep uncertainty, they left the room.

Albus removed his glasses gently. He took several steps back to his desk and lay them to rest atop the Daily Prophet.

* * *

 _MAYHEM AT THE MINISTRY!_

 _"Reports suggest that fifteen files have been stolen from secure vaults deep within Gringotts. It has been questioned, in regard to the contents, whether they were part of level six protective policy, but with the lack of response from the Ministry of Magic, it has send the public in a spiral of worry._

 _Reports argue that the files were awaiting transfer to the Wizardry Registration Office, before being apprehended by thieves. It is suspected that He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is behind the event with Antonin Dolohov, escaped Azakaban convict, assisting._

 _Indeed, it was also Dolohov who exposed the formation of the Knights of Walpurgis after a ring was discovered at the scene of seven muggle murders in 1962. Furthermore–"_

"Enough. Don't read anymore. It's all too much," Millicent burst.

In the Gryffindor Common Room, four sixth year girls hovered around the copy of the newspaper. Isabelle's hands were curled around the sheets, almost to a worrying extent.

Amelia groaned. "Millie, it's the truth! Carry on, Isabelle."

"No, I won't hear anymore." She said brashly. Her cheeks flushed bright red against her pale skin. Looking down at her arms full of coat-hangers, she dropped them with a loud clatter. "You know, I don't care about your outfit either.

Isabelle watched Millie's eyes well up and her chest expand as she fought tears. She sniffled and fanned her face, rising from the sofa and leaving without another word.

Lily sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "Should we go after her?"

"No. No, she's not as unstable this time. We'll see her in Hogsmeade."

"That's a shame," Johnson said, eyeing her property that littered the ground.

"Why?"

"I was hoping to borrow her kitten heels." Amelia looked after her dramatically. In a blink, she was over it and held up an adornment of material. " _Anyway_! The real issue here is: Scarf on? Or scarf... off." Throwing it around her neck and swiping it away in an instant. She did it several times, moving to fix her blouse.

Isabelle eyed the clothes, half-interested. She snuggled back into the leather sofa and brushed a goose feather along her top lip. The cushions in the common room were bursting with them. "I think it looks nicer on." She offered. The Quidditch enthusiast looked disappointed.

"What about my chest?"

"Well, what about it?"

"Henry won't see it."

Isabelle rolled her eyes dramatically. "Fine. Fine, pop open the top button and when you're telling a story, scratch the skin of your collarbone and then he'll get an eyeful of that chest hair, you prima donna."

Lily's face crinkled with laughter. She shot Isabelle a wink and said: "yeah, Mia. I heard you were growing it out."

Amelia shot them a suppressed look. Letting the neck of the jumper snap back against her neck. "Yeah. It's nearly as long as your ego."

"Impossible."

"Why? Because you have no ego?"

"Because my ego exists in an abundance of evermore reality," she deadpanned. "It's _impossible_ for it to end. Just like you body hair."

"Yeah, Amelia. Your body hair." A voice appeared behind the sofa, making all of their heads turn. James Potter had entered the Common Room, obviously on his way to breakfast before the trip. Behind him, were the other three and for a brief moment, Isabelle considered throwing a joke at Sirius about doing some revision.

She looked away from him and to a flustered Amelia Johnson.

"I have no chest hair!" She hissed. "The joke is over, Potter!"

"Yes, she does." Isabelle laughed loudly.

"Since when did you side with them?"

"Since it benefits my humour."

"What humour?"

"Oh, it exists just as much as your body hair does."

Sirius shook his head, smirking. "Ain't nothing wrong with a bit of it, Johnson," he called out. 'You're gonna need it for the game! It'll be bloody freezing!"

The boys disappeared out of the common room door.

"Honestly, I need some help and hair is the least of our concern. No matter how long it is, or whatever, I mean–"

"How _long_ it is?" Lily's eyes widened.

"No, no, I didn't mean–"

"Well, scientifically speaking the average hair length is one centimetre. So, if it's really bothering you with the length then...? Is it a couple inches or something?"

"Oh, piss off. No!"

"Okay, two centimetres."

"Wrong."

"Right."

"Guess again."

"Three centimetres."

"Wrong."

"Five. Borderlining a werewolf, are we?"

"Mhm, no."

"Well, we'll keep guessing then!" Lily cried.

"I'm waiting until you say there's none at all!"

"We just want to know the truth! What size–"

There was a load noise making the girls jump. Isabelle turned around with eyes the size of dinner plates, but quickly deflated. Marlene had entered with Alice Longbottom, they had slammed a hefty book on the table in annoyance.

"My dick," Marlene snapped. "You bints. This conversation is over. My ears are starting to bleed. Go back to talking about Quidditch Amelia and get your scarves out of here. The professors are waiting for us all in the hall."

They took their leave quickly. Amelia with more clothes on than planned, but in a lighter mood.

The walk through the school was busier than usual. Students were rushing to change; shoving coats and boots on as they flew down the stairwell. Twice the girls were held up by the cases moving to the wrong corridor, and they were thankful to burst into the courtyard.

It was blustery. The wind had picked up over night, sweeping off decaying leaves which danced along the cobblestone at Isabelle's feet. She looked down, trying to envision their evermore green tinge turn to brown.

The third years were waiting around her with excitement. White papers were in their gripped fingers, awaiting approval from McGonagall. Isabelle remembered the thrill of her first Hosgmeade trip; seeing a wizard village.

It was also a historical landmark. Having read countless books before departure, it was an inner glee that gave her a spring in her step when she handed in her form. Herself and Lily spent all eight hours wandering down the alleyways, up to the woods on the other side and along the hillsides that surrounded the village.

Stuffed in a drawer in Isabelle's home were muggle polaroids of them both on that third year journey.

"Hey, Lily, do you remember when I took that photo of you just before you slipped over outside the pub?" The red head's hair matched her cheeks. With a snort, she nodded.

"Oh, God. How funny."

"It was, wasn't it? I should've bought it today."

"So I can fall over again?"

"I might have to push you."

"Not if I push you first!" Lily laughed and went skipping ahead. She caught up quickly with the others and looped her short arms around their necks.

"Alone again." A voice came from behind her. Isabelle looked up quickly. Alecto Carrow, beside her: Evan Rosier. "Naturally."

"Well, I–"

"W-Well, I-I w-was going t-to find my _fwiends_ and use them as a shield against you nasty, nasty Slytherins! Wee' lamb, aren't you?"

"Hex her, Alecto." Evan spat. "Go on, show her what we've been learning in Defence."

Isabelle clenched her teeth together. "Defence against what? Me? How brave you are."

"You can talk! A fucking miracle. But, not if I sew your mouth shut. _Tempus Tacendi_!" He suddenly cried. Isabelle was blasted into the wall. She hit it with a fierce crunch, but her scream was silence.

A fire burnt her lips suddenly. Grabbing at her mouth she felt the skin moving, growing and covering her from the chin to the nose. Tears pricked her eyes as she slid down onto the floor and grappled at her face.

She fought to screech, to make noise, to bring attention to herself.

"Hey! Hey, come on! Evan. Alecto, what are you–?" Alistair nearly choked when he appeared. His eyes darted from the Slytherins to her, he hesitated at the pair, but went for the Gryffindor. "Isabelle, fucking hell."

"It was just a joke, Anscombe." Evan said with no reassurance. His voice was darker. " _Tacera!_ " he spat again.

The fire disappeared from Isabelle's face. She pressed her hands to her mouth and felt the lips appear, the extra skin vanished, feeling like a dozen spiders for a brief moment. Alistair's hand tugged her to her feet, to which she felt shaky and heavily dependant upon him.

"See? A joke?" Alecto offered. She glanced between them, false humour on her face. It disappeared and her usual ugly frown appeared. "Or not. Come on, Evan. We'll catch you later, Anscombe."

Isabelle's heart began to slow from its dramatic entourage. She stood up straighter, doe eyes following them until they disappeared around the corner.

"You alright?"

Touching her lips, she nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

"Hey, hey." He whispered and kissed her. It felt strange. Odd. Instead of exciting her, she felt disgusted after what had just happened. Kissing was the last thing on her mind, but Alistair gave her a grin that meant he thought he'd cured everything.

Hand in hand, they took a slow walk down to the village. Mainly as Isabelle pulled him back, forcing him to not catch up with anyone. She'd find Lily later and tell her what happened.

They reached the district in short time, welcoming the commotion of market day and wizarding pleasantries. Thrice, Ali was stopped by market-men trying to sell mystical objects, or vegetables, or clothing. Turning down another road, Isabelle looked upon a familiar set of shops and faces.

Madam Fitzgibbons was in the window of her grocery shop, her arms full of fresh vegetables. With a cap crammed on her frizzy hair and a stained white apron, she resembled a maid. She looked to be singing loudly as she was alone.

Swerving down another small street, Alistair led Isabelle in front of him. Her eyes landed on a bundle of cramped forms on the ground. It was, very obviously, someone homeless. The dishevelled, rugged appearance did not go unnoticed. One sat apart from them all, muttering to the wall.

Narrowing her eyes, she noticed he was muttering to a poster of the Minister for Magic. The Minister's face was scribbled over with dirt and nail marks. Isabelle shrunk into the Hufflepuff.

"All your fault. All your fault. He is coming. He is coming – in the dark, in the stars!" The beggar turned suddenly, ripping the poster off the wall and thrusting it at the students. "He is coming! Here! Here!"

"Fuck off, freak." Alistair snapped. He reached for his wand, but the homeless man recoiled quickly and fell to the floor. In a huffing mess, he stared off at nothing and ignored their presence.

Isabelle allowed Ali to shove her out of the street and grab her hand rather un-romantically.

"What a bloody nutter." Ali muttered.

"Well, yes. But, I guess he's right. There is something coming. You-know-who is all the teachers talk about."

He laughed aloud. "You sound like _such_ a muggle. They're always talking about nazism and stalinism. I read it in one of your mother's letters."

"What's that got to do with You-Know-Who? And can you, uh, not go through my things? I do believe the letter said _'Dear Isabelle'_ , not _'Dear Alistair'_." She grinned, but waited anxiously for what he said. It hadn't been mentioned since her fifth year, but there had always been an impending fear of a nuclear war.

"War exists in the Wizarding World as well as the muggle world, you know."

"Yeah, but will there be a war here? Probably not. It's just theorists getting themselves riled."

The escaped Death Eaters were staring out at her at every shop window. Isabelle couldn't stop looking at each one; their ugly faces screaming out the pictures. It started to rain as she hurried down the street, hitting her cheeks softly.

"Your hair is starting to go frizzy," said Alistair. He had his hands shoved into his pockets, trying to stay warm in the chilly weather.

"Your hair looks like it's been set on fire."

"Ooh, the cold seems to be making you snappy today."

She shot him a smile and starting giggling. They found themselves outside a rusty pink painted shop, the wood created a rustic look which was adorned with frills and bows. It hadn't changed in years, neither had Madam Puddifoot.

Isabelle used to think it was cute to look at, now after going so often, it was rather dull.

"I'll pay." Alistair said as they walked inside.

"No, no. I'll pay, it's my turn."

"Come on. It's our first Hogsmeade Trip. I haven't seen you all summer, so I'll get it."

"I did write to you."

"Look, I just, it is what it is. So, I didn't see you and _I'll_ pay."

Frowning, she began to feel slightly irritated and was fighting not to cause a scene in front of the shop. "Well, you just threw that in. We haven't even had anything to drink yet."

Alistair didn't even look at her. "I'll pay," he finalised.

Isabelle watched him walked past her and lead the way to one of the few tables left. It was fairly full; of chatter and the smell of pumpkin spice. Puddifoot had decorated for Halloween, with tiny felt pumpkins floating above Isabelle's head and a minute band of skeletons on one of the fireplaces, jumping over one another. That was the only part she found cute.

"Isabelle!" Ali called. She looked up and hurried over to him. They took their seats just as the server appeared beside them.

"What can I get you, m'dears?" said Madam Puddifoot. She was a plump woman with her black hair that was pulled into a messy bun. Her red-checked apron matched her lipstick and rhinestone glasses.

"Two coffees, please." said Ali.

"Can I have a long macchiato actually, thanks." Isabelle input quickly.

"'Course, dear." Madam Puddifoot nodded quickly, taking the dirty cups and napkins off of their table. She squeezed her way back to the kitchens and disappeared.

Alistair ran a hand through his damp hair and eyed his girlfriend.

"You're still thinking about Alecto and Evan, aren't you?"

Isabelle looked up, suddenly aware of herself. She had been picking at the menu for a good few minutes and had scuffed the corner. Puddifoot would not appreciate that at all.

"No, I'm not," she muttered. Her boyfriend shot her a look which made her want to bury her head to hide the blush. "It's nothing, Alistair. Really, do you think I'm going to let a couple of Slytherins hurt me?"

"Yes."

" _No_. I'm fine."

"You can just admit it to me."

"Admit what? That I'm pathetic? Just drop it."

She recoiled her hand from his and leaned back in her chair, looking off to the rest of the room. Frustration flurried through her like a storm. When Madam Puddifoot returned with their drinks, she noticed the stand-offish mood and quickly hurried away.

Even Alistair took it upon himself to pour cream into her drink.

Isabelle watched him do it and an odd sense of annoyance made her fingers itch. There was something about him, the way he pushed her drink towards her, stirred it, and then settled to sip his own.

Movement around the salt and pepper pots caught her attention. Two enchanted plastic skeletons uncoiled from their position as napkin holders. They crawled onto the table and began running around.

Isabelle noted that there were several of these dotted around her, several were hanging from the floating candles above her and the rest were entertainment for the other couples.

Alistair's hand appeared, he flicked them and they shot off the table with a scream.

"That was a bit mean," she commented.

"They were annoying me."

She eyed Alistair in that moment and withdrew herself from the conversation. With a hand beneath his chin and balancing his stern face, Isabelle took note of the pang of annoyance she felt when she looked at him. He did not care to try and understand her.

Half the time she remained passive, not for herself; but to make people think that her perfected idiocy was something to be overlooked. Perhaps Ali hadn't reached enough to get that she knew _exactly_ what he sounded like and what the Slytherins meant.

"My mother asked if you wanted to stay for Christmas this year."

Isabelle lifted the mug to her lips. Hot coffee touched her mouth and coated her throat, it was sour and good. "Sounds great," she replied. "But my grandma is coming Christmas Day. So, I'll leave the night before if that's okay."

"'Course. It would be great if you stayed at mine, anytime."

They finished their drinks in relative silence. With the occassional comment from Isabelle in between Alistair talking about something unimportant.

It was only when she excused herself that she felt some sort of relaxation.

Emerging from the toilets, she wiped her hands on her skirt and immediately found Alistair. He was stirring a fresh cup of tea and had a catalogue in his hands. _Jargon & Joys_ \- a high-end fashion brand in the wizarding world. He sat with his eyes focused on one of the pages squinting slightly.

"What are you doing?"

"You were right. I was being rude. This year, I'm going to treat you for Christmas. To make up for being an arse."

She couldn't stop her smile. Covering her mouth for a brief moment, before he took her hand and stood up.

"Don't be embarrassing," she flushed. "You don't even wish me a Merry Christmas."

"Yes, I do."

"Oh, no you don't. You wrapped my gift in brown paper last year."

"Kraft paper is festive."

Isabelle laughed on her way out of the door.

* * *

Before Sirius and Zelpha had been to Puddifoot's Teashop, they had been walking down a cobblestone path, hand in hand. She was clinging to his upper arm, her mouth wide with an abundance of drivel.

On their left were a row of stalls. Sirius looked at the pumpkin pasties, the chocolate orange slices and stringed-popcorn. A stout man with a spiralled moustache began trying to grab his attention.

" _Helga,_ " Zelpha groaned. _"_ It's just some French advertiser. Too far from home. Come on."

Sirius ignored her. Something ticked inside of him, causing his fingers to untangle from Zelpha's and reach out for a leaflet. He sensed the gratefulness of the wizard without having to look.

"Merci. Merci."

Pointing to a basket beside the man, Sirius eyed it with curiosity. " _Combien?_ " (How much?)

" _Quatorze facilles_." (Fourteen sickles.)

" _A quelle, uh, heure est-ce que cela ferme,_ " he pondered. (When do you close?)

" _Trois heures, mais voulez-vous voir d'autres produits?_ " (Three O'clock, but do you want to see other products?)

Sirius shook his hand, beginning to grin. One of the only advantages he ever took note of from his lower year studies was being home-schooled by his uncle. Alongside the language and music, the food was a favourite delicacy.

" _Nous sommes très pressés_ ," he said quietly. (We're in a bit of a hurry.)

" _Quelques palmier? J'ai des prunes? Ou des noix salées?_ " (some date palm? i have plums? or salted nuts?)

"Well, I, uh, I'll have some of the date palm; _Le palmier?_ " The man started to nod quickly. Happily. He asked several other questions, before slipping a handful into a paper bag. " _Oui. Oui, merci._ "

Turning away from the stall, fourteen sickles lighter, Sirius slipped a hand into the packaging and popped a date into his mouth. It was soft.

"You speak French?"

His eyebrows knitted together when he looked at her. "Oh, uh, yeah. Yeah, not much though."

"Who taught you? Your personal tutors?"

He scoffed at her, feeling affronted.

"I mean I – I guess. It's just a language."

"Teach me something else in French, then," she whispered into his ear and all but dragged him to the other side of Puddifoot's teashop.

When they re-emerged from the teashop bathroom, Sirius was dragging a hand over his mouth. He pushed another through his shaggy hair, conscious of his messiness. Behind him Zelpha was pressing her front to his back, a giggly mess.

Sirius suddenly remembered his dates.

"Well, I... wanted to eat them." he stuttered. "It doesn't matter. Let's just get a drink."

He took a seat at a dainty table by a wall covered in art. Usually, it was bright pink flower arrangements or women dressed in gowns strolling around rich gardens. However, in regard to Halloween, they were paintings of pumpkin patches.

The one beside his face was of a witch stood behind a a cauldron, in it was a bubbling green liquid. With a hooked nose, pale skin and a wart on face, it reminded Sirius of a what muggles thought they looked like. The look on her face made Sirius think she was plotting, scheming, churching and phizzing with murderous thoughts.

Puddifoot had really pushed it this year.

He watched her turning the ring over her hand. Zelpha didn't bother to cover the way she focused on the gold band. Sirius hated the thing.

"A crow?" She asked, eyes wide on the onyx emblem.

Sirius leaned forward on his elbow. "Yeah," he said. "It's just an heirloom."

"The Black Crest has three of them, doesn't it? How dark and mysterious you are, Sirius." He grinned and ducked his head.

Being sat drinking coffee was something Sirius enjoyed. It was a time to settle back and just listen to the commotion of others for a while instead of his own head. Sometimes silence was actually a thousand versions of his own voice.

"He asked me out, you know," she said. He lifted his head and followed her longing gaze. Zelpha had her lips pouted, a hand under her chin as she watched Alistair Anscombe. "In my second year. Alistair. I turned him down."

The Hufflepuff was sat with Isabelle. Her bored expression was what Sirius felt quite close to home, he wondered for a brief moment what Alistair was droning about. Probably himself.

Slumping into his seat, Sirius began to stir his latte. He idly watched the yellow and brown mixture merged, finding it more interesting in how a pumpkin could be made into a drink instead of Zelpha. If she wished Alistair was sat opposite her, then why did she drag him in here?

He said nothing and wondered what James was up to. Probably laughing with Remus and Peter.

 _Should I kill myself? Or have another cup of coffee?_ he thought.

"Then he asked Isabelle out. She's nice, I think. She teaches you Potions, doesn't she?"

Sirius eyed Zelpha. He'd been aware of her obsessive stalking for a while, but he didn't think she'd be so awful at trying to be subtle.

"Yeah, she does. Friday nights." But Zelpha already knew that part, probably.

"And, are you enjoying it? Or do you think she's uptight? Alistair sometimes talks about her being too quiet, unless they're doing other stuff."

Isabelle had moved her hand to cover her mouth. She was touching her lips in a nervously obsessive way, looking even more uncomfortable in her silence. Alistair looked like he was always talking.

Sirius looked back at Zelpha. "He talks about her like that?"

"Yeah, in the common room with Amos. Anyway, let's talk about Slughorn's Christmas Party. Are you invited?"

"I, uh, I don't know."

"Well, I was wondering if..." she went off into a tale of how wonderful she found dancing and parties. It excited her that they would be drinking champagne out of an endless fountain. Sirius picked a leather bracelet on his wrist until Madam Puddifoot wandered past again.

"Uh, can I have a caramel latter and a, uhm, peach tea, please."

Zelpha laughed loudly. "Peach tea? You're drinking peach tea?"

"Yeah, peach tea."

" _Peach_ _tea_?"

"Is there an echo in here? Priscilla, can I have one and another caramel latte. Thanks, doll."

Zelpha blinked quickly and let it go. For the rest of the drink, she didn't bother him about his home life or Black name. Sirius was grateful to get away and rejoin with his friends. She'd be there for him when he needed her anyway.

Outside the teashop, he swaggered past Alistair and Isabelle who had also left the teashop. He rolled his eyes, overhearing them both being disgusting.

Alistair pressed a kiss to Isabelle's cheek, his voice muffled against her skin for a moment. "Love you. Catch up later."

"You too," she muttered.

Taking the side-alleys and cobblestone paths, Isabelle made her way back to the castle. She hurried down the cramped Hogsmeade spaces, the dampness filled her with nervousness.

Being alone left her open to her thoughts. She recalled how she must've looked with her mouth sewed shut, how ridiculous it must've appeared when she was gagging on words and babbling like a child. Cursing herself, she wondered how Alistair didn't chase them off or threaten them like they did with her. Was he trying to keep the peace?

Isabelle looked down and found she was in the street with the beggars. It was now entirely empty, except for one man. The same one who had been talking to himself. Even when he'd jumped at them both, she'd shown no strength or bravery at all.

God, he must think she was pathetic.

There was one tiny thought that was present in her, though. What was written on the poster?

Slowing down, she took quieter movements towards the homeless man and swallowed her anxiety. He was completely harmless, so feeding her curiosity could be a tiny step. Twisting her fingers in her scarf, she clenched her teeth together and hovered inches from him.

He was asleep.

Up close, Isabelle could see his gnarled hands and dirty skin. His stubble was untrimmed, a mixture of black and grey hair whilst the top of his head was bald beneath a beanie. Beside his fingers was a pile of posters. Tilting her head, she saw a death eater on one, apparently he was in Azkaban prison.

However, written on the poster was the word: _free_.

Isabelle leaned down and reached for the sheets. They rustled. She glanced at the sleeping man and flicked through them quickly, until she came upon the one of the Minister. In large black letters was the word: _liar_.

A sudden cruel grasp around her wrist caused her to shriek and drop the papers. Following the hand to its master; she met wide unloving eyes. They sucked her in.

"W-What? Let me go! Let go of my arm!" She cried, struggling to wrench herself away.

"We're a doomed race, chained to a sinking ship, as the whole thing is a dreadful joke! Mitigate, young witch, to the suffering of our fellow prisoners; decorate the dungeon with flowers and crocheted cushions, watch the cell burn!"

Isabelle blurted out an abhorrent string of blubbered noises. She sounded like a child, but she was so confused and scared that she could barely function the ability to hold her wand. When she grasped it, she clung to it like it was her only source of life.

Jabbing it in the eye of the beggar, she stumbled back when he cried out, a hand gripping his eye. "Liar! Liar, oh, they came! They came!"

Adrenaline took Isabelle to her feet. In a complete mess, she tripped and went sprinting out of Hogsmeade. Darting past other students and teachers made no difference. She was panting, sweating and trembling when she fell through the oak doors and into the castle.

Even making it up the stairs and into a flushed pile on her bed was fuelled by fear and embarrassment. She'd tried so hard and ended up with a bruised ego.

* * *

It was all that drowned her thoughts as Isabelle waited for Sirius Black that night. Thinking overtook her awareness of the time, until she realised she was in a room full of defeating silence. She looked up from her book.

The Library was empty.

It was not darkness that made her feel timid, but what lurked in it. She scolded herself for not being used to the cruelty shadows came with, especially as there were so many at Hogwarts. However, darkness of all that had touched her today was something entirely different. Beginning with the Daily Prophet, then the Slytherins and the homeless beggar, the world seemed to be trying too hard to prove a point.

That there was very little good left.

Isabelle looked around the corner to check the time.

It was eight.

Soon, the time ticked past nine, then ten, and then eleven.

Slamming her book shut at eleven fifty-four, Isabelle rolled her eyes hard and huffed. She packed her pieces up and left the library. Making sure to not be so passive-aggressive with the door, she closed it quietly.

Once again, she was a seashell battling the onslaught of fierce waves. That is, if the waves were night.

 _Sirius – that stupid, stupid boy. God, he must be having such a laugh over it now. Howling at the idea of her waiting for him,_ Isabelle thought.

The windows cast a moonlit shadow along the corridor. Over the years, the world had become etched in charcoal. Once vibrant hues of green had become a vivid dream. It was as if a God had choked up and vomited a blanket of darkness across the wizarding world.

It was only a matter of time before others began to notice.

Beginning to hurry along the castle, Isabelle's heart beat quicker with each sound of armour and far away ghost howl.

Rounding a corner, her eyes landed on a floating figure. A tiny, stout devil with a black paint brush in his hand.

Peeves the Poltergeist was doodling on a sleeping painting.

Isabelle chewed her lip and attempted to tip toe her way around him, but her foot caught the stone floor. Her trip made a fearsome noise.

Peeves let out a startled screech.

Clutching her chest, Isabelle felt as if she'd been shot. She stumbled back, breathing should have sprinted back to the Common Room.

"Wicked witch! Wicked witch! Aren't you cruel sneaking up on me!" Peeves' voice scratched her ear drum. "Oooh, it's Isabelle the Itch. An itch to me. Watch it! I might just _scratch_ you out!"

He swooped down at her with his hands held up like a pair of magical claws. She tripped away from him with wide eyes.

"Piss off, you foul thing!" She stomped. He cackled loudly and burst into song:

 _"Izzy Itch of which I'm not fond! She can't stop crying! She can't use her wand! Boo hoo–!"_

He came towards her, the brush in hand. Isabelle's life flashed before her eyes rather dramatically when a cackle took the poltergeist's attention.

"Can't wait to stick these in it! Now, where's Peeves? Oi, Peeves? We've got a job for, oh, Isabelle. Hello."

Remus Lupin appeared from around the corner. She jumped again, her poor heart pounding like a drum inside of her chest. He was carrying a woven bag on his shoulder, behind him was Peter, James and Sirius. They all slowed down and looked between the ghoul and the Gryffindor.

Isabelle blinked.

"Not bothering one of our friends are we, Peeves? You do remember the jinx I put on you, don't you?"

Everyone in the corridor looked at Peter. Mixtures of shock from Isabelle and pride from the other boys.

The Hogwarts poltergeist quivered at the boy. His cool presence left Isabelle as he floated up.

"O-Of course, sir. 'Course Peevesy remembers. Only respect for marauders and his friends, only respect!"

"Filch is on the first floor, sweeping. Go stalk his office, or something."

Peeves nodded quickly. The bells on his trousers and hat jingled and then the noise was gone as he apparated.

"Thanks, Peter. I was about to hex him myself."

"It's alright. He's a wanker."

Isabelle laughed. He was so different. Maybe it was the lateness of the eve, or the way his friends held their own. She couldn't deny the type of overbearing strength they emitted when together.

"What are you doing up so late?"

Her eyes slid to Sirius and she scowled. He looked confused, coming closer with the others.

"Jeez' we haven't even had one conversation. What have I done this time?" His face dropped and he sighed, slapping a hand to his face. "Oh, shit. I forgot about revision."

"Yeah, you forgot. I've been in the Library."

"God, I'm sorry. Reschedule?"

"Re... Reschedule? I've been here for three hours."

"Well, I... I can't really say anything else. I just forgot."

"How do you "just forget", we've had revision for the entire term!"

"Well, shit, Williams. I don't know what you want me to do. I won't forget next week."

"Next week? You mean _tomorrow_. I have the Potions room booked for you. Good thing I ran into you tonight, isn't it? Or I probably would've been picked on by Peeves again! Walking back at midnight!"

"Shit. Uh, tomorrow's halloween, Williams."

"And?"

"Well, I..."

"Oh, right. Forgive me, there's a Gryffindor party which is more important than your exams." Sirius went to answer back and the feeling of complete embarrassment overcame her, she sighed dramatically and exclaimed: "Fine! Fine!"

He looked shocked for a moment and did not move from his spot. "Be there next week," she hissed and stormed off.

Sirius' eyes followed her and when she disappeared, he let out a long breath. A hand touched his shoulder, a familiar one. James swallowed.

"What were you saying again?" He asked.

Sirius lifted his gaze to him and a sudden heaviness crushed his chest. "Reg gave me a letter from Al. He's at St. Mungos, he doesn't think he's make it past February."

"You gonna go to London to see him?"

"He said not to. The Will he's writing is being monitored by Walburga. So, I'll have to see him at Christmas."

"And... are you alright?"

"'Course. Let's get these decorations up."

Sirius took the box from Remus and hurried ahead, the boys followed him and soon it was back to laughter; excitement for the oncoming storm of All Hallow's Eve.

* * *

 ** _References:_**

\- Madam Fitzgibbons is the name of the housekeeper in _Outlander_ by Diana Gabaldon.

\- Nazism and Stalinism were real issues in the 70s, the threat of a nuclear war was something many worried about.

\- " _The windows..."_ Angela Abraham's short story.

\- _"if she wished Alistair was sat opposite her..."_ – from the goblet of fire with harry and cho!

\- _"The look on her face made Sirius think she was plotting, scheming, churching and phizzing with murderous thoughts."_ Is from Roald Dahl's _Witches._

\- Isabelle's internal monologue 'buying flowers herself' & the beggar on the streets' monologue is a reference to Virginia Woolf's _Mrs Dalloway_! There are so many themes of warfare, repression and suffering that are similar to what is to come for our marauders.

* * *

 ** _had to re-upload this chapter bc my computer messed up the update  
please review! let me know what you think of the characters and anything you do/don't like! PLEASE!_**


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